The Reach
by itsbloomagic
Summary: When Faith stumbles upon a strange old book, she convinces her closest friend to help her investigate it. Little do they know, the book holds the key to a centuries-old secret. Set during the events of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. **Very Uber; rated M to be safe. Willow/Tara.
1. Prologue: The Markarth Affair

A/N: Hello! Welcome to my newest experiment!

I know the summary was a little vague... I'll explain a little more with the next chapter. For now, see what you think of this.

* * *

"I don't believe it!"

A dark-haired woman glanced over the top of the outdated crop report she was pretending to read in the safety of the shadows of Understone Keep. Her dark eyes peered around the atrium from their slightly sunken sockets. She spotted the man in question: a tall, thin High Elf in a dark blue set of mage's robes. He was gesturing wildly with his arms at the captain of the guard who was walking by his side, their hurried footsteps echoing off of the stone walls around them.

"I thought you had this place guarded with lock and key!" the elf continued, sounding more outraged with every syllable. The woman in the shadows smirked to herself.

"We did, Calcelmo!" the guard captain barked gruffly. "It was locked up tight with two of Markarth's finest at each door. What more did you want?"

"Preposterous," Calcelmo sneered as the pair rounded the corner into the excavation site. "If those are Markarth's finest, I'm going to need to talk to the Jarl about getting better guards."

The woman glanced around warily, seeing that the guards were standing around looking bored, much like they had been when she had entered an hour earlier. Seeing that no one was any the wiser, she rolled up her trusty old crop report and tucked it into the inside pocket of her traveling cloak. She straightened the dark gray material over her leather riding pants and cloth shirt, sliding the hood back to reveal all of her dark brown hair. With a final glance around, the woman hiked her pack upon her shoulder and stepped out of the shadows.

The guards did not even flinch as she strode past them at a brisk pace, as if she had just finished a spot of business with the Jarl. Just a few more steps to the main door of the Keep and she would be well on her way to a healthy pocket full of gold.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE ARTEFACTS MISSING?"

The dark-haired woman bit back a chuckle at the sound of Calcelmo giving the guard captain a what for. Sometimes, the best part of a job was the show she got if she stuck around long enough.

Finally, her hand was on the door and she pushed it open, stepping out into the midday sun on the steps of the city of Markarth in the province of Skyrim. The woman took a deep breath of the fresh, mountain air and promptly set off down the stone steps of the city.

She felt good. Fantastic, even.

In all of her time with the Thieves' Guild, she had never been given such a high-profile job. In fact, it wasn't often that _anyone_ got any really juicy work, what with the decline of the Guild in recent years. However, she had been gifted with the honor of breaking into a high-security area and lifting a few precious objects from within. And how many times a year, on average, could she say she broke into a heavily-secured Dwemer excavation site and walked right back out without a scratch?

Not many, that was for sure.

With a spring in her step, the woman crossed over the little river that ran through the city and passed by the door to an abandoned house. As soon as she caught sight of the city gates, which to her represented freedom, she paused to think.

The morning had gone so well, she thought, that she might as well reward herself with an afternoon of good ale. It was the thing to do in Skyrim after all. In fact, you didn't even need a reason to indulge most of the time. Today, she definitely had a reason and the coin to back it up.

However, she contemplated as she turned toward the Silver-Blood Inn, an inn was a risky place to take a pack full of jewels and potentially-rare artefacts that you just lifted from the Keep. Especially an inn that was run by the most influential family in the Reach. Who knew what kind of trouble she could run into there?

The woman disregarded her worry with a smirk. She had made it out of the Keep in one piece; a few good tankards of ale would not hurt her chances of getting out of Markarth very much.

And so, with her decision made and the spring in her step restored, the dark-haired woman made her way into the Silver-Blood Inn. The heavy doors swung easily on their hinges and she strode in with a swarthy step.

"Afternoon, gentlemen!" she exclaimed loudly, silencing all the chatter in the inn. Every work-weathered face turned to stare at her critically as she shot one of her winning, dimpled grins to the barkeep.

"I'll take a tankard of your finest mead," she began, swinging a leg over one of the barstools, "And a another for every man in here today."

The barkeep raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Are ye sure ye have the coin for all that, lass?"

Her grin only grew wider as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Are you sure you have the mead for my coin?"

* * *

Several hours and several rounds of mead later, the dark-haired woman had drawn quite a crowd. Excepting a few patrons that preferred to sit in the shadows with their hoods drawn, every person in the inn was riveted on the mysterious woman as she regaled them with stories of her escapades. She commanded their attention from her perch atop the bar.

"So what 'appened then?!" a red-faced Nord slurred loudly.

"Calm down, you troll! Let a girl set up the suspense!" the woman replied, her speech only slightly less-slurred than his. The rest of her audience chuckled at the Nord's impatience.

"As I was sayin'," the woman began, tossing back the last of the mead in her tankard, "The East Empire Company guards aren't the smartest lot I've ever dealt with, but they're certainly more formidable than most."

A few men mumbled their agreement while she paused to signal the barkeep for a refill. The weary man frowned, but poured another tankard of mead as he spotted her coin purse jingling merrily as she moved.

He glanced toward the doors of the inn as they swung open and closed quickly, a cloaked figure striding quietly to the bar. The person sat at a stool without acknowledging him and turned their attention to the woman with the flowing dark hair.

"So, it was the dead of night and I was crouched in th' shadows of the docks tryin' to plot my way around the guards. One was an Orc—seven feet tall, easy, and half as wide—and the other was some plucky Imperial with barely enough meat on him to last the first month of winter. You know the kind." Her audience laughed. She leaned forward dramatically. "I knew I could probably trip the Imperial and send him into the water before he knew what was happenin'. But, his friend would need a more... Delicate approach."

The cloaked figured seemed to tense as the woman spoke, glancing warily between the woman and the door of the inn. Ever-aware, the barkeep began to glance to the door as well, anxious of the cloaked figure.

"As quietly as I could," the dark-haired woman continued, "I popped the nails on one of the boards of the dock and propped it _just so_," she gestured emphatically, "that it would trip the Imperial up. Then, I just had to wait."

Suddenly, the doors of the inn burst open and seven of Markarth's armored guards piled in, swords drawn. Silence fell over the patrons once more, many of them burying their faces into their tankards to try to stay out of whatever was going to happen. The barkeep frowned and opened his mouth to greet the guards.

"Ev'ning, gents!" the dark-haired woman howled from atop the bar, grinning goofily. "Have ya come for a round or two?"

The barkeep, instantly regretting his decision to keep the mead flowing to this obviously unruly woman, quickly jumped into the conversation before the aforementioned woman could muck it all up.

"Harald," he said, addressing the guard at the lead of the group. The guard in question removed his helmet and stowed it under his arm. "What can I do for ye this evening?"

"It seems that we have an escaped fugitive in our humble town," Harald announced gruffly. The barkeep struggled not to glance at the suddenly-stiff, dark-hared woman still seated atop his bar. Harald glanced at the guard to his right and the group of guards split up and began to pace between the tables, looking closely at each and every patron.

The dark-haired woman lifted her tankard to her lips and drank the rest of her mead down in one large swallow. The stone cup made a resounding thud as she set it heavily on the bar. Harald the guard locked his steely gaze upon her.

"That so?" she asked rakishly, her voice suddenly a lot clearer than the barkeep expected, considering the sheer amount of mead she had put away that afternoon. She calmly rested each of her booted feet on one of the barstools in front of her and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees contemplatively. "And you think they'd come to a dreary old pub to hide out?"

The barkeep frowned again.

"Beg pardon, but my inn is not-"

"We've received orders to search every public building in Markarth, ma'am," Harald ground out, cutting off the barkeep.

"I'd like to see those orders, if you don't mind," she announced brightly. The barkeep paled at her words, fighting the urge to cover her mouth with his hand.

"That's not really necessary, Harald," he said, desperately trying to keep his voice level. He definitely couldn't afford a skirmish with the guards this week.

Harald the guard narrowed his eyes at the woman and took a heavy step forward. His fellow guards paused in their bored-looking perusal of the patrons, glancing back and forth between their leader and the talkative woman.

"And just who might you be to demand to see the orders handed to me by the Jarl himself?"

"I'm just a concerned citizen," the woman replied simply. "It's not as if the Keep was burglarized or anything."

Harald carefully studied the dark-haired woman on the bar. Every patron and guard watched one or the other, waiting for some kind of action to break out. Finally, Harald made a move, pointing his sword at the woman and nodding to one of his fellow guards.

"Bjorn, arrest this woman," he ordered. The dark-haired woman arched an eyebrow as the barkeep slammed his hands down onto the bar.

"What in Talos' name is going on here?" he demanded.

Bjorn approached the bar, sliding a pair of wrist irons out of a pouch on his belt. He stopped in front of the stools on which the woman rested her feet, quietly ordering her to stand. She merely stared at the burly Nord, eyebrow frozen in place.

"Seriously?" she asked, glancing around in disbelief. "What did I do?"

With a quickness that the barkeep could hardly believe, the cloaked figure that he had almost forgotten about shot off of their barstool and landed a solid fist on the pressure point that was just barely visible between the neck of Bjorn's breastplate and helmet. The large Nord dropped like a stone and all of his guard comrades sprung into action before he even hit the floor.

Harald himself tossed his helmet to the floor and charged the dark-haired woman. Once he was in range, she hooked the toe of each boot under the seat of the barstools they had been resting on and kicked them both at him. He threw his arms up to shield his face as the wooden stools shattered on impact, grunting at the blow. Before he could recover, the woman braced her arms on the bar and pushed off, planting her feet firmly into his breastplate, toppling them both to the floor and rendering Harald unconscious. The cloaked figure quickly helped the woman up as the five remaining guards approached them.

"What was that?" the dark haired woman hissed at the cloaked figure, cracking her neck from side to side as she picked up Harald's sword and dropped into a fighting stance.

"You were taking too long," the cloaked figure muttered in a high-pitched, somewhat gravelly voice. The pair shuffled together into a rough fighting formation. "And that bit about the Keep was a little much, don't you think?"

The dark-haired woman scoffed as the first guard reached her, ducking his sword swing and blocking the next.

"Just because you're wicked jumpy doesn't mean I can't have a little fun!" the dark haired woman ground out as she deflected another blow from the guard with Harald's sword. She followed up with a striking blow to the his helmet, sending him sprawling to the dusty floor as she rounded on the next guard.

Meanwhile, the cloaked figure had produced a small axe from somewhere within her robes and quickly blocked the two swords slicing toward her. With a grunt of effort, she pushed them both back and swung the axe backward, knocking one of the guards back with the butt of the weapon. The cloaked figure swept the legs from under another guard as she stood back-to-back with the dark-haired woman. With what looked like practiced ease, the pair fought off the last three guards, knocking each of them into unconsciousness.

When all the guards had been dispatched, the dark-haired woman dropped Harald's sword near his slumbering body and pushed her unruly hair out of her eyes.

"That was a fair workout," she said with a dimpled grin.

"Unless you want another, I suggest we make our escape," the cloaked figure muttered, pulling her hood down to reveal the face of a cat with blonde-colored fur and bright yellow-green eyes; a Khajiit. "Sooner would be better."

The dark-haired woman scoffed again as she surveyed the damage.

The Khajiit turned to the barkeep with what passed for a sympathetic smile curling on her feline lips. "I'm sorry for the disruption."

"I'm not!" the dark-haired woman chimed in cheerily, extending a hand to the stunned barkeep. "Name's Faith. My Khajiit friend here goes by Buffy. Thanks for letting me lay low here for a while."

The barkeep shook her hand weakly, trying to take in all that the dark-haired woman had said. He glanced silently at the unconscious guards on the floor and the dumbstruck patrons of his inn. The woman called Faith quickly searched the pouches on each guard's belt, taking a few things here and there.

"Ye know that the Silver-Bloods will be hearing about this?" he warned weakly, trying his best not to panic. The Silver-Bloods were the most influential family in the reach; there was no telling what they would do to him once they found out what had happened in his inn.

"Sure," Faith said, hiking her pack onto her shoulder. "But they're probably the least of our worries."

With another dimpled grin, Faith tossed a coin purse on the bar as she and the Khajiit made their way to the door and out of the inn. The barkeep stared after their retreating forms with his mouth agape.

Hours later, after being ruthlessly questioned by the guard captain and the Jarl's steward and assessing the damages to his inn, the barkeep pulled the coin purse out of his pocket and emptied its contents onto the bar. He cried out in shock at the pile of coins and precious stones that spilled out onto the aged wood.

"My word!"


	2. Family

A/N: Hello all!

As you may have noticed, this fic is a little something different. This is a BTVS/Skyrim crossover. It was inspired by the (very NC-17) uber-fic "Hellebore" by Chris Cook. You can find it at the Through the Looking Glass story archive (uberwillowtara stories). It will help to have a little bit of familiarity with the province of Skyrim, though you can find links to a map and images of some of the places described in my profile.

I have "recently" been on a Willow/Tara kick (as in "they've been my entire life for the last three years"). So, this is a work of femmeslash fanfiction and if that is not your cup of tea, please brew yourself something else. I'm not sure how long this will be or how often it will be updated, but I hope you enjoy the ride.

Thanks for tuning in!

* * *

The normally solemn city of Windhelm was abuzz with activity.

A new trading vessel had just arrived at the city docks, rumored to be carrying all sorts of exotic wares. The shopkeepers, nearly salivating with the idea of this fresh wealth, were busy cleaning their shops and putting their best merchandise on display. They all hoped to strike deals that would be talked about for years to come. At the docks themselves, a small army of man, elf, and beast moved around the large ship, fastening sails, hoisting boxes, and preparing cargo to move. A crowd of spectators lined the stone walls of the city, craning their necks to watch every individual piece of action.

Amidst the relative chaos, a gentle-looking blonde woman stood perfectly still and silent at the end of an empty stone dock. The cool wind blew her hair off of her shoulders as she stared out to the Sea of Ghosts. She held no interest for the spectators of the new ship and thoroughly enjoyed the space that they gave her. It was rare that she got moments to herself as the farm in which she resided was always a hive of activity. She was thankful to have an excuse to get away for a while, even if it was only to the city to watch a ship dock.

She took a deep breath of the chilly, salty air and closed her eyes, tuning out the sounds of the docks for a moment. The sound of the water moving filled her ears as a small wave crashed against the dock she was standing on and splashed water against the bottom of her skirt. She smiled to herself.

"M-miss Tara!"

The woman started, her clear blue eyes snapping open and she turned her head to find the person that had called her name. She searched for a moment before landing on a tall, lanky young man with scraggly light-brown hair scurrying carefully through the crowd surrounding the ship. When she met his eyes, he made his way over to her, his nerves evident in his gait.

"Miss Tara," he repeated, bowing his head slightly as he stopped a few feet from her.

"I've told you before, Roeth," the woman said softly, pulling his attention back to her. "Just call me Tara."

The young man's cheeks and ears reddened in embarrassment as he nodded quickly.

Roeth was one of the newest employees of Chillstream Manor, the farm just outside Windhelm at which Tara worked. Tara doubted that the young man had ever even seen snow until he had arrived at the farm, but he seemed to be adjusting well. At barely twenty years old, he was eager to work hard and see more of the world. He was a nice young man, if a little more formal than Tara was used to.

"O-of course, Mi-uh... Tara," Roeth stuttered.

"Thank you." She smiled kindly at him. "Now, how can I help you?"

Roeth held up a folded and sealed piece of parchment that looked to Tara as if it had seen better days.

"Th-this letter arrived for you this morning by messenger. I was unable to find you to give it to you earlier."

"Well, you found me eventually," Tara joked. Roeth merely blushed again as he glanced warily around the docks.

"It was with m-much searching," he muttered, holding out the letter. Tara turned fully from the edge of the docks and took the letter from the young man.

"Thank you, Roeth."

The young man nodded again and stepped back as Tara glanced at the address printed on the front of the letter in a familiar, messy scrawl.

_Lady Tara_

_Chillstream Manor_

_Windhelm_

She slipped her finger under the seal of the letter and broke it, careful not to tear the paper. She was about to fold it open when she noticed that Roeth was still standing there; she had expected him to scarper off like he usually did.

"Was there something else?" she asked carefully. He blushed again.

"Ald was concerned when I couldn't find you this morning. I will have to tell him where I found you..." Roeth trailed off nervously.

"And?" Tara sighed, knowing where the conversation was quickly headed.

"And you know that he will not approve of you spending time with these..." he lowered his voice dramatically, "Creatures."

Tara arched an eyebrow at the young man as he continued to glance around as if he were being watched.

On the docks around them, several Argonians and a few elves bustled about, now beginning to offload the wares from the large ship. The lizard-men stood on the gangplanks while passing crates back and forth, using their scaly tails to help them balance on the uncertain surface. One particular Argonian was marking off items on a list as he walked the deck of the ship. The few elves in the area were rolling lengths of rope and checking sails.

If there was one thing that she did not enjoy about her life at Chillstream Manor, it was that her employers were not very accepting of the elves and beastfolk living in Windhelm. Ald would rather see the Grey Quarter, the city's dark elf community, walled off and segregated from the rest. The man was also quite outspoken about his distaste for the Argonians that called the city home. Tara could argue all she wanted with him, but she knew that they would never see eye to eye.

"These _creatures_ are people just like the rest of us," Tara scolded gently, pulling Roeth's attention back to her with her warning tone. "And where I choose to spend my time off in the city is none of Ald's concern. I am a grown woman."

Roeth flushed even harder.

"O-of course, Miss Tara."

Tara was about to open her mouth to correct him again when he turned on his heel and walked off quickly, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. She sighed heavily as she watched him go. It was only after Roeth had disappeared through the city gates that Tara turned her attention back to the letter he had come to deliver. She unfolded the battered paper and read the brief note.

_Meet me at the usual place. We have a lot to talk about._

Tara's eyebrow quirked once more.

"Short and sweet," she mused, casting her gaze once more on the sparkling water surrounding the dock. She took a deep breath of the cool, salty air, expelling it in a heavy sigh. The dingy scrap of paper crumpled easily in her fist.

"She must have something important to tell me."

* * *

Most homes in the province of Skyrim were compact with single bedrooms on the lower floors and in basements to maximize the heat from the fireplaces. Farms were slightly larger, generally with several rooms for family and employees, as well as large kitchens and storage areas. Chillstream Manor, however, was a different story entirely.

The gigantic, three-level manor sat just across the river from Windhelm, surrounded by lush fields of wheat, leeks, and lettuce. A few outbuildings housed stables, a mill, and a smith. It was almost large enough to be considered a small town. The manor itself boasted seven bedrooms on the upper levels along with a sprawling master suite and kitchen on the main level. It was large enough to house the owner and his family as well as the entire staff of hands that worked the farm.

Tara had been lucky enough to be hired by Ald and and his wife Lieske when she was fifteen years old. She happily left her place at the orphanage in Riften to help tend the crops and do other odd jobs around the farm. She took shifts with the other employees to sell their goods in the Windhelm market when there was little to do and often helped the hired cook prepare meals for their large group. A few times a year, she and Ald would take some of their goods to other cities to sell and trade with other merchants. And, as her decade of service made her the longest-employed hand at the farm, Tara had been given her own bedroom.

Tara tossed a billowy, white cotton shirt onto her bed next to several others of varying color. Standing with her hands on her hips, she carefully contemplated the assortment. After a few moments, she picked up the white shirt and its light blue cousin and folded them neatly into the travel bag laying open at the foot of her bed.

A quiet knock sounded from the doorway and Tara glanced up to see the wife of her employer, Lieske, leaning against the door frame with a frown on her face.

"Going somewhere?" the elder Nord woman asked.

"Riften," Tara replied quietly, moving back to her wardrobe and replacing the shirts that she had decided against. "I'm leaving in the morning."

"I trust Ald is sending you with some goods to sell?" Lieske asked, though Tara was quite sure that she meant it more as a statement.

Tara glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow as she picked out a few pairs of riding pants.

"I wouldn't be going otherwise."

Lieske hummed in response. She watched quietly as Tara bustled around her room, picking items from various drawers and adding them to her still-open pack.

"You always over-pack when you visit Riften," Lieske observed after a few minutes, her tone very slightly accusatory. Tara stiffened and froze in the process of packing a small dagger, the weapon suspended briefly over the leather bag before she dropped it in. "It is only half a day's ride from here. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Tara sighed softly as she folded over the flap of her traveling pack and secured the straps to hold it closed. She lifted it briefly to test its weight, dropping it back onto her bed when she found it to be light enough.

She knew that she was entering dangerous territory with Lieske. Too much information could have her banned from Riften. Too little, and she would never be allowed to leave the farm again. She decided to try a more opaque approach.

"What is it that you came here for, Lieske?" Tara asked after several moments of tense silence. "I know that it wasn't just to interrogate me about my trip."

"I only meant to find out where you were going. You have to be careful-"

"I _was_ there at dinner," Tara said sarcastically, staring the older woman in the eye. "You don't have to reiterate what Ald said."

Lieske blushed, looking somewhat abashed.

"My husband only means to protect you and I agree with him. Whether that means spending less time at the docks with the _animals_ or taking fewer trips to Riften," Lieske chided.

Tara frowned, the ever-present irritation flaring within her. She didn't think the Argonians and Dunmer that worked at the docks to be animals at all. They were people just like the Nords of Windhelm and deserved to be treated with the same respect rather than insulted at every turn. And her trips to Riften had nothing to do with anything, she thought. So, she schooled her irritation into resolve as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Then I will tell you the same thing I told him when he barked his message of 'protection' at me in the main hall," Tara said. "Where and with whom I prefer to spend my time is, frankly, none of your business. I am twenty-five years old and _more_ than capable of taking care of myself. I don't need you or Ald peering over my shoulder at every turn."

"But Tara," Lieske began, her voice raising in decibel as she took a cautious step toward the younger woman, "Accepting these creatures as men... It is not the Stormcloak way. If you would like to continue living comfortably at this farm and earning a wage, then you would be wise to remember your Stormcloak values." Lieske tilted her chin defiantly. "We don't _have_ to allow you to stay."

Tara's blue eyes flashed in a moment of very uncharacteristic anger as she stared at Lieske; that had been a low blow. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she took hold of the strap of her traveling pack.

"I am no Imperialist," she stated calmly and firmly. "And I am _certainly_ no Stormcloak."

She flung her traveling pack over her shoulder and strode past her employer to the door, throwing it open as she spoke.

"I'll aim to be back next week. Don't wait up."

With that, Tara walked briskly from the room and through the halls of Ald and Lieske's manor. She reached the main entrance in a matter of minutes, earning several curious glances from the other hands as she went. Finally, she pushed through the heavy doors and stepped out into the cold evening air of Eastmarch.

It would be a simple matter to stay the night at the inn and set off for Riften in the morning as she had planned. But, if she was being honest with herself, the conversation with Lieske had gotten her very worked up.

Tara's calm nature usually allowed her a very long time before her anger would get the better of her. The encounter with Roeth that morning had irked her, but not terribly. It was worse at dinner earlier that evening when her employer, Ald, had admonished her for being anywhere near those "nasty creatures" in front of the entire staff of the farm. She had managed to keep her composure with some trouble. Lieske's contribution had been the last straw and Tara knew that she had to leave before things got ugly.

Tara was as Nord as they came: Tall, broad-shouldered, and fair-haired with eyes the color of the cloudless sky on a clear spring morning. She believed in hard work and good ale. Heavy swords, large axes, and tightly-strung bows were like child's play to her. She loved to sail when she had the chance and enjoyed picking away at her lute on occasion. And she preferred to worship _all_ the gods of her culture, regardless of the ban put in place by the Empire.

At the same time, she was also a student in the varied magical disciplines, studying spells that caught her eye and learning a few when she could. For fun, she sometimes brewed her own potions and sold them at the street market in Solitude. And she particularly enjoyed mingling with people from all over Tamriel; she was interested in learning about all races and held none to be more superior over the others.

It was those very non-Nord traits that made Tara's relationship with her "family" so strained. They would never tire of explaining to her how the elves, Khajiit, and Argonians of Skyrim were so beneath them. They never listened to reason, no matter how many times she gave them evidence that these people were clearly as strong as Nords in their own ways.

And, if their racial prejudices weren't enough, Ald's brother Vlad had helped to set off the war against the Empire that brewed all around them. One day, they had received news that the High King was dead in Solutide. Within a few weeks, Vlad burst through the city gates at Ulfric Stormcloak's back along with several hundred other men. They claimed to be the true Nords fighting for their culture and heritage against an Empire that only sought to unite _all_ cultures and heritages. Though Tara had no particular fondness for the Empire, she also disagreed with the causes that this new radical group fought for.

Just thinking about it now was making Tara more angry.

She did her best to remain as neutral as possible, but it was extremely difficult when she was surrounded by only one side of the war. Perhaps, she thought, it would be best to set off for Riften tonight. She would arrive much earlier than necessary for her meeting, but she could use that time to decompress a little bit. Perhaps, after her meeting, she could do a little bit of traveling; visit a few friends and disconnect from the war for a few weeks. She could spend some time in Whiterun, possibly make a name for herself there. If she did that, she would only have to return to Windhelm to retrieve her few possessions and move them to her new home.

Tara found herself nodding as she pondered, wondering why she had never had that idea before.

The answer was simple, she thought. She had never been angry enough.

She would set off for Riften tonight, she decided. Assuming she did not run into any trouble, she should make it by mid-morning the next day.

And then, maybe she could have a few tankards of good mead to blow off some steam.


	3. The Giant Mess

A/N: Here's another chapter of this experiment! I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Tara could have taken a horse.

Riding was a good deal faster than walking and often a safer way to travel. A good horse could outrun most creatures. However, though it was more tedious, walking was the most common form of transportation. As easy as it would have been to take one of Ald's horses, she never was one to take the easy way out. And, if she was being honest with herself, Tara much preferred walking to riding.

So, Tara had set off on foot from Chillstream Manor, waving at the nighttime stable-hands as they tended the horses. She had made good time so far on the winding road. It swerved to and fro, over and through the snowy hills that she had called home for most of her adult life. She had traveled out of Windhelm before, of course. In fact, she had been to almost every major city in Skyrim at least once. But she had lived in Eastmarch for a long time and it would always hold a special place in her heart.

Regardless of how she felt about her "family."

Traveling at night was more difficult that journeying in the day mainly because of the lack of natural light with which to navigate. There was also increased danger from the nocturnal creatures of the wild, the ones that hunted their prey in complete silence and blended perfectly with the shadows. Though Tara had made the trip to Riften enough times to navigate without sunlight, she knew it would not be wise to let her guard down. She was a skilled swordswoman and a fair shot with a bow, but she preferred not to use them when she could avoid it.

Tara followed the paved road around another curve and glanced at the sky. Judging by the stars, she had been on the road for around three hours. If she walked a little farther, past the giant camp she knew to be a little way ahead, she would come upon the tiny village of Shor's Stone. It held a fantastic view of the mountains in the distance. She could stop there for a short rest and enjoy the scenery by moonlight.

A plan in mind, she quickened her pace, eager to rest her legs.

As she rounded another curve, she could just make out the light of a large bonfire fairly nearby. She had been closer to the giant camp than she anticipated, she thought, happy with her progress. Just then, a loud and low-timbred roar tore across the countryside, causing Tara to start with surprise. The trees around her shook with the sounds of the sleeping animals waking in fright and the ground rumbled very slightly under her feet.

By nature, giants were passive creatures. They warned travelers who trod on their territory by shaking their clubs and yelling, but they would not attack unless directly provoked in some way. Tara knew from experience that a roar of that magnitude combined with stomping hard enough to shake the ground could only mean one thing.

Someone had provoked the giants in the nearby camp.

Tara drew her longbow and nocked an arrow, breaking into a run as another ear-splitting roar rang through the trees. Whoever had woken the giant was in a lot of trouble if they did not know how to handle the creatures.

She thundered down the road, skidding into the camp within minutes. The giant-sized bonfire burned bright and hot and illuminated the surrounding area almost as well as the sun on a cloudy day. Even without the light from the fire, though, Tara would have been able to spot the enraged giant as he stomped around his campground. He swung his heavy club with abandon, taking out any trees or rocks that stood in his way as he pursued whatever it was that had provoked him.

Tara jogged closer, taking cover behind a rock formation as a thick tree branch flew at her, propelled by the giant's wildly-swinging club. When the danger had passed, she moved closer still. Finally, about fifty feet from the giant, she spotted the problem.

Three armored soldiers scrambled around the giant's feet, yelling at each other and desperately avoiding its swinging club and stomping feet. Occasionally, one of the larger soldiers would swing at the ankles of the beast with a sword or axe, but it only proved to further anger the giant as it roared and rampaged. The smallest of the soldiers scurried to and fro with his or her comrades, frantically pulling scrolls from their pockets. Tara judged that one to be a mage, though she doubted they had much skill based on the way they were fumbling around.

However, as Tara watched, the mage surprised her by throwing all of their scrolls to the ground and raising one hand, a fireball forming in their palm. A plume of fire soon stretched between the mage and the giant, engulfing the creature's legs in flaming heat. Tara sighed, knowing that fire would have little effect on the giant except to anger it more, and decided to join the fray.

She dropped into a crouch and ran around behind the giant, catching the attention of the soldiers as she went.

"Bandit!" one of them yelled, narrowly dodging a falling tree.

"That's just what we need now, isn't it?!" another shot back as he slashed at the giant's legs with his sword.

"I'm not a bandit!" Tara yelled, standing up straight. "Get him to turn back this way!" She planted her feet firmly and raised her bow.

The soldiers chose not to question her, instead aiming all of their attacks at the giant's left leg. The creature turned as they moved, trying to keep them in his sights. After a few moments, the creature was facing Tara and moving into another erratic swing with his club.

"HEY!" Tara screamed as she took aim, drawing her arrow back.

The giant turned his head directly toward her, his manic gaze locking on her quickly. Tara took a breath and released the arrow. It sailed through the air in a near-perfect arc, striking the giant in the forehead directly between the eyes.

All activity froze for a moment as the giant was stunned. Then, his eyes rolled in their sockets as he started to sway on the spot.

"Move!" Tara yelled, gesturing wildly at the three soldiers who stood dumbly in front of the creature. They snapped to attention at once, scrambling toward her and out of the way just in time. The giant suddenly collapsed to its knees as it drew its last breaths. Finally, the creature fell completely forward with a loud and earth-shaking thud.

Tara and the three soldiers stood together for several minutes, taking in their victory in silence. It was broken when the smallest of the soldiers, the mage, spun to face their comrades, reached up and tore the iron helmet from their head, tossing the armor to the ground.

"I _told_ you that attempting to loot a giant was a bad idea!"

Tara blinked.

Before her stood a fair-skinned Imperial woman with fiery red hair flowing over her shoulders. She stood with her gloved hands on her hips, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. Her small stature apparently meant nothing as the two larger soldiers stepped carefully away from her.

"It was his idea!" one of them said, pulling off his own helmet to reveal his longish dark-brown hair and Imperial features, pointing at the third soldier. The third soldier removed his helmet as well, pushing his short white-blond hair off of his forehead.

Tara quickly glanced at the armor the three were wearing, paling when she saw the same uniform crest emblazoned on each shield.

Imperial Legion soldiers.

Tara was extremely grateful that she had chosen to wear her plain traveling clothes instead of the Stormcloak armor that Ald and Lieske would have insisted she wear. She would not have been well-prepared had the soldiers noticed and become hostile.

She thanked Talos for small miracles.

But, just in case, she discreetly stowed her bow.

"Well, excuse me for trying to have a little fun in this wasteland," the blond soldier muttered, stowing his helmet under one arm as he reached down to dig in a small pack on his belt.

The mage scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. The blond soldier extracted a small roll of paper from his belt pack, sticking one end between his lips. Tara watched, fascinated, as he produced a match, struck it, and lit the other end of the paper roll on fire. The flame died quickly, but the ember glowed red hot as the man inhaled deeply. He grasped the rolled paper between two fingers and pulled it from his mouth, exhaling a lungful of smoke at the dark-haired soldier.

"Watch it!" the young man yelped, jumping back and waving his hands to try and disperse the smoke. The blond laughed.

"It ain't going to kill you, Alexander," he chortled. "It's just some dried twill grass."

Tara smirked. Twill grass was a plant that many older, more refined Nords liked to crush up and burn in their wooden and corn-cob pipes. She had never seen anyone roll it in paper before. The look seemed to suit the cheeky Imperial.

"Are you two quite finished?" the mage asked petulantly. The dark-haired soldier, Alexander, merely scowled. The blond, however, smirked and held up both thumbs as he let out another cloud of smoke.

Tara glanced between the three for a moment, noticing that they seemed to have forgotten that she was there. She figured that now would be as good a time as any to announce herself.

"A-are any of you hurt?" she asked gently, surprising the soldiers as she had expected. Each one started and spun to face her, eyes wide.

"Bandit!" Alexander cried, reaching for his sword. Tara recognized that he had been the one to shout it before as she had entered the fight.

"I am not a bandit," Tara repeated, holding her hands up in surrender. "I was coming down the road when I heard the commotion."

"You made a pretty clean shot," the blond observed, tossing the still-burning stub of the paper roll to the ground. He then held out his hand. "Name's William."

"Tara," she replied, blushing as she shook his hand. "And it took a lot of practice to get that shot right."

Alexander stepped forward next, seeing that she was not hostile, and introduced himself. Tara shook his hand as well. Then, she glanced at the mage and met her eyes.

For a moment, though it seemed like an eternity, Tara felt as though she was caught in some kind of thrall. She stared into the eyes of the red-headed mage, guessing their color to be light brown or green in the moonlight, as she slowly forgot about the world around them. A warm, fluttering feeling blossomed in her belly, only adding to the strange situation. The mage, it seemed, was having similar reactions to the odd tension that had sparked between the two of them in that instant. Tara was the first to come to her senses, breaking the eye contact in favor of staring at the grass. She extended her hand to the mage. The redhead cleared her throat as she took it in a firm grip.

"I—Willow. I-is a name. My name. Willow is who I am," she babbled comically, her face flushing as she shook Tara's hand repeatedly.

Tara looked back up at the woman, quirking an eyebrow curiously at the strange tingle in her hand as they shook.

"Calm down, Red," William chirped, clapping Willow on the shoulder.

"Yeah, Wil," Alexander added. "She just saved our hides from a giant. You probably shouldn't confuse her with your odd speech patterns."

Willow merely flushed more deeply and finally released Tara's hand.

"I-it's alright," Tara said. "I u-understood."

William laughed and glanced between the two women.

"I guess you found a good one, then, Red."

If it was possible, Willow's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. The young woman turned away from the group and walked off toward the body of the giant. Tara watched her carefully.

"Where _did_ you learn to shoot like that?" Alexander asked, pulling her attention back to the other two soldiers. "We'd been attacking that thing for a good fifteen minutes and you just step in and plant an arrow between its eyes as easily as if you were breathing."

Tara blushed and looked to the ground modestly.

"I've been training for a while," she said. "And you learn the best ways to take care of certain creatures when you travel the same roads all the time."

"I see," William said, nodding along.

Tara watched out of the corner of her eye as Willow the mage started to gather her scrolls from the ground. When she had them all stowed in her pack, she moved toward the giant, presumably to investigate its body.

"Well, we're very grateful you came along," Alexander continued. "We might not have lasted much longer."

"You really shouldn't provoke giants," Tara muttered absently, eyes now focused on Willow who was prodding at different parts of the creature.

"We've learned that lesson, eh?" chuckled William. Alexander nodded and smiled. "I think I'd like to try again sometime, though. Just for the rush."

Alexander's smile disappeared.

Flashing the men a weak smile, Tara turned away from them and moved toward the giant's body. Willow the mage, who had produced a scrap of paper and coal pencil from somewhere on her belt, was walking around the creature and scribbling notes. Tara stopped next to the red-head, placing her hand flat on the flank of the giant.

"You really should have a better system for storing your scrolls," Tara said conversationally. Willow started, her concentration broken, and whipped around defensively. She sighed when she saw there was no danger.

"Yes, well," Willow grumbled, a tinge of agitation obvious in her tone of voice. "If it weren't for the Brainless Duo over there, I would have been better prepared. They insisted I wear the standard iron plate armor instead of my Battlemage robes for such a long journey. They underestimated how much I needed those extra pockets."

Tara watched as Willow went back to her notes, following the mage as she walked a slow circle around the giant's body.

"Where did you come from?" she asked.

"We're coming back from Winterhold. The Mage's College had some supplies set aside for me. Our station is just southwest of Riften."

The pair lapsed into silence as Willow examined the place where Tara's arrow had pierced the giant's forehead, the steel shaft still planted firmly in place. Willow gave the arrow a gentle tug and it pulled free fairly easily, a fact that seemed to surprise her.

"It's one of the few places on a giant's body where the bone and hide are thin enough for an arrow to penetrate fatally," Tara explained, preempting the mage's question. Willow glanced at her in surprise.

"How do you know that?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stared at Tara.

"Experience," Tara replied, blushing under the scrutiny. "Y-you can also sew a fairly good water skin from their hides if you're desperate. And cold magic usually does more damage than fire."

Willow nodded along, finally looking away from Tara to write furiously on her paper. Tara moved around to the giant's side, lifting the creature's loincloth and finding a large pouch of fabric attached underneath. She deftly untied it and dropped it to the ground, the fabric falling open. Inside the makeshift pack were a steel sword, a few tiny potion bottles, and a coin purse.

"Jackpot!" William yelled, startling the women as he and Alexander approached the loot. Tara smirked.

"Do you know a lot about the wildlife around here?" Willow asked suddenly, appearing at Tara's shoulder. Tara's smirk turned into a warm smile.

"Of course. I grew up in this area. And, I travel to Riften at least once every few months."

William and Alexander picked through the items from the giant's pouch, occasionally griping at one another.

"We've only been in Skyrim for a short time," Willow said, moving to stand in front of Tara and holding her gaze, her notes forgotten in her hand. Her smiling face was flushed again, but this time in excitement. "It would be great if you could tell me a few things about the creatures and plants of the area. I have plenty of unfinished journals and texts that I'm sure you could correct with a few words. And we could go on an expedition and make sketches of the flora and fauna. The mages back at the Imperial City would have a field day with all that information... I mean," she backtracked, her eyes wide and apologetic, "Only if you wanted to, of course."

Tara's smile grew even larger as she considered the woman's request.

Willow was definitely beautiful, even in the bulky and unflattering plate armor her comrades had forced her to wear. And, she seemed to be very smart. Even if nothing came of the strange look they had shared earlier, perhaps Tara could gain some specialized knowledge in magic in exchange. It could work out well for her either way.

"That sounds like an interesting adventure," Tara murmured. Willow's eyes widened and a large grin stretched her lips, the very tip of her tongue poking out through her teeth. She seemed to vibrate with excitement.

"It will be! I promise!" Willow exclaimed giddily.

The two men turned to them then, stowing their new items in their packs.

"We should head out soon, Wil," Alexander began, sliding his helmet back over his head. "We'll want to make it through Fort Greenwall before daybreak."

Willow snapped to attention then, moving toward her fellow soldiers.

"Of course. Let's get moving."

"What about you, Tara?" William asked as he tied his waist pack firmly closed. "Where are you headed?"

"Riften," Tara and Willow said at the same time, both glancing at each other and blushing. William raised an eyebrow.

"You should travel with us," Alexander said cheerfully. "Being your escort is the least we can do for keeping us from becoming giant stew."

Tara giggled gently.

"Alright," she conceded.

The group made a final circle of the giant's camp, checking for any more useful items, before making their way back to the road and toward Riften.


	4. Riften

A/N: Hello all!

I apologize for the wait between chapters. Real life has been very busy lately. I'm reorganizing the next two chapters a little, so they may be delayed as well.

That's all for update-related news. Back to your regularly (un)scheduled experiment!

* * *

The sun had just peeked over the tall mountains to the east when Tara and the Imperial soldiers entered the gates of Riften. Despite the dark of night, their impromptu group had not run into any other problems after the scuffle at the giant camp. In fact, they had even passed through Fort Greenwall, a known bandit stronghold, without a single issue.

William and Alexander had lead the group, spending most of the journey dramatically reenacting their interaction with the giant before Tara had arrived. Though she was almost positive that they had not actually managed to leap over the 20-foot bonfire in their attempts to escape, she still found their story entertaining. Willow, though still obviously annoyed with the men, laughed along. Once the pair had run out of fantastic exaggerations, they had fallen into silence, taking in the scenery of the moonlit walk.

Willow had chatted animatedly with Tara for the rest of the trip about the different techniques for felling and avoiding giants. Tara was impressed with her ability to walk, talk, and take notes all at once. She told the mage all she knew about giants and the woman scribbled away happily the entire time. It was refreshing to her to meet someone so interested in the things Tara had to say. Willow listened intently and asked very good questions. Tara had caught herself smiling more than once at one of the mage's intuitive comments.

Now, as they wearily made their way toward Riften's inn, the Bee and the Barb, Tara felt a little sad that she and Willow would have to part ways. She had truly enjoyed talking with the red-head. And, if she was being honest with herself, she was not all that put out by her looks either. Tara blushed as that thought crossed her mind, doing her best to hide it behind her hair.

"Well, I call that a successful journey," Alexander said proudly, stretching his arms in front of him.

"I would have liked to have seen a dragon," William muttered and Alexander's eyes widened comically.

"Absolutely not! If we come across across a dragon, we run the other way." William shook his head and started to walk away, Alexander following him pleadingly. "I need you to swear to me right now, William!"

Willow and Tara watched them continue to argue with slight grins on their faces, following them at a much more sedate pace. The men wandered off toward the Riften market as Tara and Willow stopped in front of the inn. They stared at each other silently.

"It was-"

"I had-"

Tara ducked her head and Willow flushed as they spoke at the same time.

"S-sorry," Tara muttered. "You first."

"I was just going to say that I'm glad we ran into you," Willow said, her eyebrows knitting together seriously. Tara glanced up and met her green eyes. "Or, glad that you happened to stumble upon our most certain mortal peril and take it upon your kind soul to keep us from harm."

Tara's lips quirked into a half-smile.

"I think 'running into each other' is a nicer description."

"You're probably right," Willow said, a grin curling her lips. She reached out and rested her hand on Tara's upper arm. "In any case, I'm really glad to have met you."

"I-I'm glad we met, too." Tara didn't know quite when she and Willow had moved so close together, but it was as if the city of Riften had faded away and Willow was the only thing she could see. Not that she was complaining. "And you can write me sometime or something about that expedition."

"Breakfast." Willow muttered, nodding to herself. Tara's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the random word.

"Sorry?"

"We, um..." Willow wrung her hands briefly and smiled nervously at Tara. "We could have breakfast tomorrow. Or, you know, lunch, since we were travelling all night. You're probably very tired and it usually takes me a full day and night to recover from all-night anything. Uh, n-not that I take all that many trips in the dead of night because that would be dangerous, like with the giant thing. And anyway, if I spent that much time travelling in total darkness, I'd probably have to rethink my career choices. Or learn a better lighting spell. I would finally have a use for that copy of 'Mage Light' that my father gave me for my graduation from the Arcane University and please stop me before I go any further."

Tara laughed. Willow was beet-red and looked as if she may hyperventilate at any moment. Tara could not blame her; she had never heard someone speak so many words without taking at least a few breaths in between.

And speaking of breaths, Tara's was a little bit taken by the offer of meeting for lunch. She had assumed that Willow would go back to her station with her comrades and write to Tara periodically about things she was interested in learning. After all, they _had_ spent the entire journey from the giant camp speaking of nothing but the anatomy and behavior of giants. It would only be right for Tara to assume that the mage was only interested in an academic relationship, regardless of the spark of attraction that Tara felt toward the other woman.

This lunch offer, however, led Tara to believe that perhaps Willow was interested in more than just an academic friendship. She seemed very excited and a little nervous about meeting with Tara, more so than Tara would have expected from someone who just wanted to talk about plants. Then again, Willow did seem like quite an excitable woman in general.

Tara decided rather quickly to leave it to fate. "Academic friendship" or not, she thought, it would be worth it. Willow was rather charming in a studious kind of way.

"Calm down, Willow," Tara said, laying her hand on Willow's that still rested on her arm. Willow sucked in a deep breath. "I would love to have lunch with you tomorrow."

"You would?" Willow whispered, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Absolutely." Willow's face split into another one of her large excited grins and Tara blushed. She gestured at the door of the inn. "W-we could meet here at noon."

"That would be perfect!"

Tara could not help the gigantic grin on her face as she stared into Willow's green eyes. She had never felt such excitement about something as trivial as lunch before; it was a wonderfully freeing feeling. And the look of pure joy on Willow's face made her chest feel like a perfectly warm fire was burning inside it. She knew that they had just met that morning, but she could not help the strange sensation that they had known each other for far longer.

As they stood, lost in each others' eyes, the door of the Bee and the Barb inn burst open and a couple of well-dressed citizens exited. Tara and Willow sprang apart and the blonde reached for the hilt of her sword as the pair turned toward the men.

"Oy," one began loudly, "That's not the best spot for a morning chat."

"Perhaps moving out of the way of _paying_ customers would be a better idea," the other added.

The pair of men chuckled haughtily at each other before turning around and striding off toward the keep. Tara took a deep breath and turned back to Willow, the tension between them broken.

"So, tomorrow. N-noon?"

"Tomorrow at noon I will be here," Willow replied with a tiny smile.

With that, the redhead turned to find her comrades. She had barely made it two steps before turning back around and throwing her arms around Tara's neck. Tara stiffened in surprise at the embrace, placing her hands awkwardly on the mage's back. Just as quickly as it had happened, Willow pulled back and grinned gleefully at Tara.

"I can't wait!" she exclaimed, turning back around and scurrying off toward the Rifen market square.

Tara was still stiff with shock, gaping after Willow dumbly for several moments after she disappeared into the morning crowd at the market. It was only after another citizen brushed past her with a gruff 'excuse me' that she finally came back to herself.

_If that wasn't a good sign, I don't know what is,_ she thought to herself. With a happy sigh and a smile on her face, Tara turned and wandered into the Bee and the Barb.

As she entered the inn, she was bombarded by the smell of fresh-baked bread and fish stew. The aromas were familiar and comforting and she felt her smile grow as she approached the bar.

"Good morning, Keerava!" she said cheerily to the woman scribbling away in the yellowed ledger laying open on the bar. The woman was taller and leaner than Tara, her limbs thin and lightly muscled. Instead of the smooth, pale skin of most of the locals, however, she had a tough, snake-like covering of light brown and green scales all over her body. In body, she was shaped as any other human of the area, but her head was thinner and elongated with slits for nostrils in place of a nose. Her thin, lizard-like red eyes widened in surprise beneath the small horns that lined her brow and the crown of her head; she was an Argonian.

"Ah, Tara! It's wonderful to see you again," Keerava warmly replied, dropping her quill and moving around the bar to take Tara's hand. "It has been much too long!"

"Is that Tara?" another voice asked from across the room. Tara turned to see another Argonian ascending the stairs from the cellar, his large arms full of wine bottles. His dark green scales sparkled in the light from the sconces on the wall.

Tara smiled warmly at Keerava's husband, Talen-Jei, as he ducked his very tall frame through the doorway and approached excitedly.

Tara had been a very shy child when she was young and lived in the orphanage in Riften. She hardly spoke to the other children and, when she did, they had made fun of her for stuttering over her words. Sometimes, when they became too oppressive, she would sneak out and spend hours wandering the city. She would sometimes spend hours at the Temple of Mara reading books and listening to the priests there speak to visitors and perform their rituals. And then, after night fell, she would head to the Bee and the Barb and sit by the fire as the townspeople enjoyed their meals and drinks.

Though most of the townsfolk wholly ignored her and the other children from the orphanage, Talen-Jei and Keerava had greeted her warmly and asked her if she wanted any milk or bread. Being as shy as she was, she barely managed to shake her head through her deep blush. After few days, the Argonians had stopped asking and just started bringing her bread and warm milk so that she would have something in her stomach when she went back to the orphanage. They lent her books from their own library so that she could read about more than the worship of Mara. When she was old enough, they let her help cook and clean for travellers for a little bit of gold.

Though she had moved to Windhelm in her teenage years, Tara never forgot how kind the Argonians had been to her. They had become like an aunt and uncle to her, which was, truthfully, more family than she had ever had before. She made it a priority to visit Riften just to see them. Thankfully, Ald usually had excess goods that he wanted to sell outside of Windhelm and Tara offered to take them as often as she could. It had, however, been several months since her last visit and she was very glad to see them.

"Hello, Talen-Jei," Tara greeted kindly.

"It is wonderful to see you," Talen-Jei said. He set his wine bottles safely on the bar and pulled Tara into a warm hug. "It has been too long!"

"Yes, Keerava was just reminding me. It has been kind of busy up north."

"I would imagine so with those Stormcloak rumblings," he said as he pulled away, speaking of the Nordic civil war that was brewing in Windhelm. He leaned closer to Tara as he spoke, lowering his voice. "I hope Ald hasn't pulled you in for 'the cause'."

"No," she replied, shaking her head adamantly. "Though, he and Lieske did try to remind me about their 'Stormcloak values' before I left. They made me so angry that I decided to leave last night instead of this morning like I had planned."

Keerava clucked her tongue in distaste and shook her head.

"It is one thing to feel a certain way and another entirely to force it on someone else," she said. Talen-Jei nodded.

"Yes. But enough of this dreary talk!" His eyes crinkled excitedly. "What have you brought with you to sell?"

Tara flushed deeply and ducked her head.

It had occurred to her as soon as she left Chillstream Manor that she had left without the goods that Ald wanted her to sell in Riften. Had she left the next morning as she had planned, he would have had a travelling pack made up by then for her to take. However, since she had stormed out that evening instead, there were no goods prepared for her. She had briefly debated with herself about going back to gather some things together, but had decided to push on for Riften rather than listen to more of Lieske's admonishment.

And, with the excitement of the giant and meeting Willow, Tara had almost forgotten about why she had come to Riften in the first place.

"What is it?" Keerava asked, placing a scaly hand on Tara's shoulder in concern.

"Well, I left in a little bit of a hurry," Tara explained, pushing her hair behind her ears. "There was nothing prepared for me to take. Lieske just made me so angry that I didn't even want to go back and collect anything."

"Oh, Tara," Keerava muttered quietly.

"So, you're taking indefinite time off without permission?" Talen-Jei asked, his suspicions confirmed with Tara's nod. "It sounds like you may not have a job or home to return to."

"Most of my clothes and journals are in my pack and I always take my sword and bow with me," Tara reasoned. "To be honest, I had forgotten about the goods I was supposed to bring until you mentioned it. But, now that I think about it, I figure I might try my luck in a different city for a while. Maybe I can find something that makes me happy."

The Argonians nodded in agreement and Keerava bustled over to the fireplace.

"Well, we can't argue with that," she said. Tara smiled. "Have a seat and let me fetch you some breakfast."

Talen-Jei retrieved his wine bottles and moved behind the bar to stow them away as Tara slid her pack from her shoulders and sank into a chair near the fireplace. She leaned back and sighed. Now that she was somewhere safe and familiar, she felt the weariness from her all-night journey hit her all at once.

"Here you are," Keerava hummed, placing two bowls of oat meal and a pair of tea cups on the table in front of Tara. She slid into the seat across from the blonde and they both dug into their meals.

"Well, Tara," Talen-Jei began, walking back around the bar and to Tara's side, "I have to run by the meadery and place our order for next week. Feel free to take your usual room." He held out an old brass key and Tara took it gratefully.

"Thank you," the blonde replied, smiling warmly at the Argonian. He waved cheerily at the pair of them before leaving the inn.

Tara and Keerava ate in silence for several minutes, the blonde getting lost thinking about a pair of green eyes and an excited grin. She was therefore startled when Keerava spoke.

"I have a question..." the Argonian asked carefully. Tara glanced up at her. "If you forgot to bring the goods to sell and came to Riften anyway, does that mean there was another reason you were coming to visit?"

Tara blinked at Keerava and tried to fight back another smile, thinking of the brief letter she had received at the docks in Windhelm only the morning before.

"You mean besides to visit the two of you?" she tried, her lips quirking up on one side. "I'm just passing through, really."

Keerava's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, no," she said, nearly hissing the words out. Tara hid a laugh behind a sip of tea. "You don't mean to tell me that... that... _Breton girl_ is back in town, do you?"

"She has a name," Tara said pointedly. Keerava merely glared. "I may have received a letter from her yesterday and she may have told me that she wanted to see me."

Keerava groaned and Tara could swear she saw the lizard-woman's normally expressionless face contort in annoyance. She could not hide her laugh that time.

"I don't understand what is so funny," Keerava mumbled, standing to clear their empty bowls and cups from the table. "Especially after what happened the last time she was here."

"It was just _one_ window," Tara chuckled, standing from her own chair and stretching her tired muscles.

"One window and half of the good china," Keerava retorted from behind the bar. "I swear that girl attracts trouble like a flame attracts moths."

"She wants to speak with me about something. I doubt she'll be here long."

Keerava's head popped around the wall and she poked a finger at Tara.

"You just keep her away from my inn!"

"You know I can't promise that," Tara replied. "Thank you for breakfast."

With that, the blonde picked up her travelling pack and headed for the stairs. She climbed them unhurriedly and turned at the top landing to head to her usual room at the end of the hall. It was sparsely decorated with a single bed, wardrobe, nightstand and lamp, and a chair in the corner, though to her it was like a home away from home.

Tara closed the door softly behind her and locked it with the key, dropping her pack, sword, and bow in the space between the bed and the wardrobe. She quickly undid the straps on her travelling cloak and laid it over the foot of the bed before pulling the leather tie out of her hair and letting it flow over her shoulders. As she strode to the bed, she set her leather hair tie and the room key on the nightstand, unclasping her dagger from her belt and sliding it under her pillow. She sat on the bed to untie her boots, stowing them near the nightstand, and stood back up to unfasten her pants. The loose leather slid easily from her legs, the hem of her grey cotton shirt falling to the middle of her thighs.

With another languid stretch, Tara pulled back the wool blanket and slipped into the bed. She reached over and turned the oil lamp on the nightstand to its lowest setting, throwing the windowless room into darkness. She lay back and sank gratefully into the downy softness of the mattress. Before she even realized that she had closed her eyes, she drifted comfortably off to sleep.

* * *

Tara dreamt that she was walking through a beautiful, lush meadow under a clear summer sky.

Somewhere close by, she could hear a stream trickling over rocks and fish splashing around farther away. A gentle breeze blew around her, causing the vibrant green grass to sway to and fro. Flowering trees stood proudly all around, creating little pockets of shade that she could not wait to sit in with a good book.

As Tara blissfully took in all the sights, sounds, and smells around her, she heard another set of soft footsteps approaching from the side. She turned her head and met a pair of eyes as green as the grass around her. She felt herself grin, her eyes crinkling and lips pulling up at the corners as high as they would go.

The green eyes were attached to a face with an excited smile on it; a head flowing with long, fiery red hair; a fair-skinned body clad in a simple blue cotton sun dress. Tara held out her hand.

Tara's heart swelled as the other woman grasped her hand between both of her own, her lips moving to form what Tara recognized as her own name, though she could not hear it. Tara pulled her arm back toward her body, bringing the other woman in with it. When she was close enough, Tara wrapped her free arm around her back and cradled the red-head to her chest.

The sense of completion she felt was absolutely magnificent and joyful.

Suddenly, something like a poke to the inside of her brain made her jerk slightly, her red-headed companion smiling obliviously up at her. An uneasy feeling settled around her. She frowned as the meadow began to fade away.

She woke slowly and languidly, unwilling to leave her perfect dream meadow even as a tiny voice in the back of her mind tried to tell her that something was not quite right. Reluctantly, Tara let the meadow and the beautiful woman fade to blackness.

As she came fully to consciousness, she kept her eyes closed; the slight feeling of unease was still there as it had been while she was waking. Tara focused her mind and listened intently to the inn around her. She could hear the soft sounds of the main bar area as townspeople and travelers alike settled in for meals or drinks. A patron was walking softly up the stairs, likely heading to their room to put down their bags. Her own room was silent except for her calm breathing.

Steeling herself, Tara opened her eyes and sat up in one move, her eyes darting around her dark room. She reached her hand out and turned the oil lamp up, bathing every corner of the room in a soft yellow glow and she gasped.

In the chair in the corner sat a rakish woman with unruly dark hair and a dimpled grin.

"It's about time you woke up. I thought you might've died."


	5. That Breton Girl

A/N: I think I may have dropped something with this update... Is it a plot?

* * *

Tara was certain that her racing heart was beating loud enough to be heard from the bar downstairs.

The dark-haired woman sat perfectly still, her dimpled grin frozen in place. She stared at Tara openly with her slightly sunken brown eyes. The blonde took in the woman's high cheek bones, pale skin, and slight build; she was a Breton. She wore form-fitting black leather pants and worn boots, Tara noting that they appeared to have been recently cleaned. Her tight, deep red shirt appeared to be cut for a broad-chested man, though the leather ties at its neck had been removed and it daringly lay open to her mid-chest to display impressive cleavage. The woman presented an alluring sight to be sure, but Tara was more concerned with her presence in general.

Tara discreetly slid a hand beneath her pillow as she stared back at the woman, her fingertips brushing over the handle of the dagger that she had placed there before she had fallen asleep. For several tense seconds, the women stared at each other in complete silence until Tara snapped into action.

She closed the hand beneath her pillow into a fist and forcefully threw the down-filled bedding at the woman in the chair. Tara's aim was true.

"What the-" the Breton floundered, sputtering as the pillow hit her square in the face.

"You nearly scared the life out of me, Faith!" Tara growled fiercely, her voice still gravelly from sleep.

The dark-haired woman recovered quickly, lobbing the pillow back at Tara. Tara threw her hand up and batted it to the floor.

"Come on!" Faith whined, a frown pulling at her full lips. "I thought you'd be happy to see me!"

It _had_ been nearly a year since she had last seen Faith, Tara mused, but that had also been a rather unpleasant way to wake up.

Faith had been known for her unrepentant mischief for most of her life. In fact, she and Tara had met when Faith successfully pilfered the most expensive necklace from the stand of a foreign jeweler at the Solitude street market. It had been later, after they had physically run into each other during Faith's daring escape, that Tara had learned that Faith had been an orphan just like she herself was. The brunette had taken residence on any merchant vessel she could to keep herself fed and clothed. They had become unlikely, inseparable friends. Even with Faith's frequent travels as a member of the Thieves' Guild, they had remained close.

Tara fought back tears of relief that she had not been in any real danger, narrowing her eyes and setting her shoulders stiffly instead. She threw the wool blanket off of her legs and swung them over the side of the bed. She pulled her riding pants up her legs and fastened them with a huff, whirling on the woman in the chair the moment they were secure around her hips.

"How did you even get in here?" Tara demanded, gesturing to the brass key that was still laying exactly where she had placed it that morning. She held up a hand before the Breton could reply. "Never mind. I'm sure it's some ridiculous and fanciful story."

A shadow of Faith's dimpled grin flashed across her face as she leaned back in her chair.

"No, no, no! Don't you smirk at me!" the blonde continued in a hushed yell, stabbing a finger at the woman in the chair. "You had better pray to all of the gods and goddesses that Keerava didn't see you sneaking up here. She still hasn't forgiven you for the last time!"

"I replaced the window," Faith said, waving a hand dismissively.

Tara huffed out a sigh, glaring at her visitor as she ran a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. After a few moments, she sank back down onto the edge of the bed to begin pulling on her boots.

"It was nice of you to write me a letter for the first time in months," Tara began sardonically, tucking the legs of her riding pants into the tops of her boots. She glanced up at Faith with a slight frown as her tone became more serious. "Honestly, it couldn't have come at a better time."

The brunette quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"Oh?"

"I'll tell you about it on the way." Tara said, straightening up. "I am hoping we don't have to take any trips through the sewers this time."

"Well, I hate to shatter your fantasies," Faith muttered as she stood from the chair in the corner. She snatched Tara's pillow from the floor and shook it out firmly. Tara glanced up with a grimace as the brunette moved to toss the pillow back to its place at the head of the bed. "You'll have to go through the sewers with me this evening. There's someone down there I want you to meet."

"Ugh," Tara groaned, standing up once more and straightening her riding pants. "I'm going to smell like waste water for the next week."

Faith stared levelly at Tara, her deep brown eyes taking a more serious glint.

"You know I wouldn't have sent for you if it wasn't important," she said quietly. Tara held her gaze silently, eyebrows furrowed.

"You could have summoned me to count blades of grass and I would have come just as quickly."

Faith smiled a different smile than her usual grin then. Her eyes crinkled very slightly in the corners and her lips pulled up softly, making her look much less mischievous than usual. She placed a hand on Tara's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"In any case, I'm very glad to see you again."

Tara smiled crookedly at the Breton girl as she strapped her belt and dagger into place.

"What time is it, anyway?" she asked, shaking her hair out a final time before pocketing her room key. Faith narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

"About sunset, I reckon," she muttered. Tara moved to the end of the bed to search through her travelling pack. "I've only been here for about half an hour."

Tara hummed in response as she slid her coin purse into her other pocket. She shut the pack with a sigh and moved to the door.

"Let's get this over with, then."

She held the door for the brunette as they left the small room. She locked the door securely behind them and they made their way down the stairs to the bar area.

* * *

"When I got your letter, I was at the docks watching a new merchant vessel land," Tara began as she and Faith entered the Ratway, the tunnel and sewer system beneath the city of Riften. The narrow stone hallway was exactly as Tara remembered it: damp, dank, and dreary. The air was stuffy and smelled faintly of mold, though it got somewhat less pungent as they made their way down the hallway.

"One of the stable hands delivered it and he hinted that I shouldn't be spending time with all the 'creatures' that work the docks. I told him it was none of his business and went back to the manor later in the afternoon to meet with Ald; he was going to pack up some things for me to sell while I was down here. Sometime between that meeting and dinner, the stable hand told Ald that I had been 'consorting with animals' and that I'd yelled at him for interfering in my affairs or some other nonsense."

Faith rolled her eyes as she and Tara passed through a stone archway into a large, square room. They made their way across a rickety wooden bridge and into another, smaller room. A pair of torches burned weakly in their brackets, providing just enough light for the women to make out a sturdy door set into one wall.

"So, at dinner, Ald confronted me about it and practically yelled at me about 'creatures' and 'values' and 'true Nords'. Lieske and the other hands just stared at me. It made me sick, but I just listened until he ran out of air. When he was done, I reminded him that I was an adult and he was not my father. He didn't like that very much, so he left almost as soon as his plate was empty. I was packing all of my clothes up in my room later that evening when Lieske came in. She started going on about the dangers of the Argonians and dark elves. She said I needed to start abiding by Stormcloak values and then threatened that she and Ald didn't _have_ to let me work and live in the Manor."

Faith frowned deeply as they reached a shadowed door in the brick wall. It creaked softly as Faith pushed it open to let Tara enter ahead of her. Once they were both inside of another dark, damp hallway, she shut the door firmly behind them and turned to look at Tara seriously.

"She threatened your job?"

Tara nodded, avoiding the brunette's eyes.

"I was so angry that I just threw my pack on and left. I didn't even take whatever Ald wanted me to sell." Tara finally looked up and into Faith's eyes. "Talen-Jei supposes that I've forfeit my job and home."

"Oh, Tara," Faith muttered, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"That was Keerava's reaction," Tara said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. "But I thought about it this morning. I have been struggling against Ald and Lieske's archaic beliefs for ten years. It is time for me to find something that makes me happy."

Faith nodded with a slight grin.

"It's about time," she said. Tara smiled brightly at her friend.

The pair lapsed into silence as they turned to follow the stone tunnel toward a large, round room. Tara could hear the sound of water lapping gently at stone in the room ahead of them. The smell of mold was stronger here. It brought back memories of the many times she had come to this place with Faith over the years, most of them fond.

"Before we go in," Faith began, pulling Tara to a stop just before they could pass through the stone archway into the large room. The brunette seemed suddenly, uncharacteristically tense. "I just want you to know that I really do appreciate you coming on such short notice."

Tara stared at her friend carefully, her brows furrowed.

"I would only refuse to come if there was absolutely no way I could."

"I know," Faith muttered. She placed a hand on each of Tara's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Just... Keep an open mind."

Tara frowned and opened her mouth to ask Faith what she was talking about. Before she could get a word out, though, Faith spun on her heel and walked forward into the large room. Tara let out a confused huff before following her friend.

The room was gigantic; one of the large cisterns beneath the city of Riften. The majority of the room was taken by a large pool of clean water that Tara knew supplied one of the wells in the city. A damp stone walkway lined the circular edges of the room and lead to a small, dingy tavern. Tara followed a few feet behind her dark-haired companion as she walked around the edges of the room, trying not to lose her footing on the slippery stone. After a few moments, the pair reached the tiny tavern and solid ground. It was the Ragged Flagon

Taking a glance around, Tara noted a few familiar faces among the patrons: A petite woman with a shock of white-blonde hair leaning against some storage crates, a balding man sitting comfortably at one of the tables as if he owned the place, and the barkeep with his long, stringy hair taking an order from a person in a long, hooded cloak. She got polite nods from all of them as Faith led her between the tables and up the steps onto a wooden platform that extended over the water in the center of the room. A small table with three chairs sat near the edge of the platform, almost completely in shadow.

Faith walked straight to the table and pulled out a chair, motioning for Tara to take a seat. As Tara sank into the chair, Faith took the chair across from her, immediately slouching down in the seat and crossing her extended legs at the ankles. They sat in silence for several minutes, Tara glancing around the cistern and Faith chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. The voices of the Flagon's other patrons echoed off the stone walls around them, giving the impression that there were far more than a handful of people in the room.

"I took a job in Markarth a month ago," Faith blurted after several moments of nervous fidgeting. Tara started from her quiet perusal of the Flagon to look at her old friend.

"From someone trustworthy, I hope?" Tara asked. Faith sat up straight in her chair and leaned her elbows on the table between them.

"Of course. Old Delvin set everything up." Faith gestured vaguely toward the balding man in the main bar area. "It was easy enough: Get in to the Markarth Treasury House, lighten the coffers of the Silver-Blood family, and get out."

"Easy as pie," Tara muttered sarcastically. Faith grinned widely.

"Exactly. Everything went to plan. My partner and I got in and out without any trouble," Faith explained. "When we brought the goods back home, though, Delvin and Vex almost had little matching seizures of joy."

Tara's eyebrows furrowed as she leaned forward in interest.

"One of the treasury ledgers we'd grabbed had some _very_ interesting finds in it. We're talking stashes of gold and silver, deeds to land in different holds, and a list of priceless artefacts owned by them and hidden in plain sight. Obviously, everyone knows that the Silver-Bloods have a lot more fortune than they'd ever put on the books, but this was beyond even that. Delvin's informant didn't even know that half of it existed." Faith sat back with a very self-satisfied smile. "The new recruits still haven't stopped fawning over us."

Tara started as a set of light footsteps resounded on the wooden platform. She quickly turned to find the cloaked person that had been at the bar when she and Faith had entered the Flagon approaching their table. The figure moved fluidly and lithely, carrying three tankards steadily in their gloved hands. When they were close enough, they set the tankards heavily on the table between Tara and Faith, sliding one of the tankards in front of each of them.

"I think my partner may be exaggerating slightly," said a gravelly, almost hissing feminine voice from beneath the hood of the cloak as the figure took the third seat at the table, the one farthest away from the edge of the platform and the water. The figure reached up and delicately lowered the hood from her head. "We are seen more as the ones with the score to beat rather than the heroes of the guild."

Tara found herself entranced by the figure's purring voice as she revealed the pale blonde fur covering her pointed, cat-like face. The Khajiit woman's stunning yellow-green eyes sparkled with reserved amusement as Tara took in her long whiskers and tall, pointed ears. Tara stared openly at the woman, following the barely-discernible light brown patterns across the Khajiit's head and down her neck. The woman sat calmly as Tara studied her, quite used to eliciting that reaction in Skyrim by now.

"Tara, this is Buffy, my partner," Faith said uncertainly after a few silent moments. "Buffy this is Tara." Tara dragged her eyes away from the way the candlelight glinted off of the Khajiit's whiskers to meet Faith's gaze briefly. The brunette smiled nervously as Tara turned back to look Buffy in the eye.

"Buffy isn't a traditional Khajiit name," she said quietly, a light blush tinting her cheeks. Buffy smiled widely at the blonde, exposing two rows of perfectly straight, perfectly white, perfectly sharp teeth. Faith let out a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding.

"You're not wrong," Buffy purred quietly. "But I don't think Tara is a common name in the Nordic tongue either." One side of Tara's lips quirked with humor.

"You're not wrong," Tara repeated, extending a hand to the Khajiit woman. "Pleased to meet you." Buffy took her hand and they shook briefly.

"Likewise. I've heard a lot about you from our Faith."

Tara's eyes flicked to the brunette; Faith was blushing and looking anywhere but at Tara.

She filed that away for later.

"As she was saying," Buffy continued, shifting delicately on the chair and resting her hands flat on the table, "What we found was beyond any best-case scenario we could have thought up ourselves."

Faith took a long pull of the mead in her tankard and cleared her throat. She seemed to settle back into the businesslike demeanor she had had before.

"Yeah. The higher-ups in the Guild decided that they wanted a piece of the hidden Silver-Blood fortune, like some kind of political bargaining chip or something. I didn't care; I just wanted my cut of the score. They came back to Buffy and I and asked if we wanted to travel back to Markarth and make with the take. Of course, we agreed."

"Of course," Tara muttered. Buffy smirked.

"So, we went back. Buffy headed back to the Treasury House to try and find more information on the deeds. I went after the artefacts."

"It was a very straightforward mission," Buffy chimed in. She took a sip of her mead before continuing. "Faith went into the Keep around mid-morning. I had to wait to enter the Treasury House until lunchtime. By the time we had both finished our tasks, we each held more wealth than we had ever seen."

"There were jewels, enchanted amulets, all number of priceless Dwemer artefacts, and more in the Keep. I had a hard time deciding how much I could carry in my pack," Faith admitted. "In the end, I took as many of the jewels and amulets as I could, a couple of musty old books, a Dwemer puzzle box, and a few other odds and ends from the museum."

Tara nodded along.

"I, on the other hand," Buffy continued, "found enough gold and silver to plate the city of Solitude twice over. It was a very successful afternoon for the most part."

Faith smirked this time, leaning back in her chair.

"Faith and I had arranged to meet at the city gates before sunset to make our escape. I waited there for almost an hour with no sign of her." Buffy narrowed her eyes at the brunette.

"I was at the inn getting a few drinks in before we left," Faith said. "Markarth has fine mead."

"Yes, she was absolutely enjoying the mead. So much so that when I finally found her, she had the entire patronage entertained with stories of her exploits. It was a roaring good time, especially when the city guard showed up with orders to search every building in Markarth for the thief that sacked the Keep."

Tara frowned.

"You've been in jail for a month?" she asked incredulously, her eyes as wide as saucers. Faith laid a hand on her arm in comfort.

"No way," the brunette assured her. "We knocked them all out and got out of there faster than lightning."

"I think we ran straight to Falkreath that night," Buffy added. "It only took us a couple of days to get back to the the guild."

Tara glanced at each of them in turn, her eyebrows nearly in her hairline.

"Then what in Talos' name have you been doing all this time?"

"Hold on to your loincloth, I'm getting there!" Faith exclaimed rather loudly, her voice echoing around the chamber and turning the heads of the other patrons. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"We came back and got everything appraised and Delvin started lining up some buyers.. It turned out to be a very rewarding adventure," she said.

"Only things he couldn't offload were two of the books," Faith continued. "He gave them back to me after two weeks and told me no one was even slightly interested. He had no use for them, so I held onto them and tried to find my own buyer. I sent a letter to that Orc librarian at the college and he wouldn't bite. Said the books were worthless. We even hooked up with a few of B's caravan cousins-"

"They are not my actual cousins."

"-ANYWAY, we met with them and even they didn't take the them. Usually, they'll take just about anything that they can resell later. They may as well have laughed in my face for all the interest they showed."

"We had thought that the books would be worth _something_ considering they had been listed in that Silver-Blood ledger." Buffy tilted her head to the side. "Why would the most powerful family in the Reach list a pair of worthless old books as part of their massive, hidden wealth?"

Tara, whose eyes had been flicking back and forth between Faith and Buffy while they told their story, frowned slightly. Before Faith could answer the question, Buffy reached into a fold in her cloak and laid its contents on the table between them. Tara leaned forward curiously, taking in the two small, old books.

Both of the thin tomes were bound in faded red leather, much like the journals that Tara had seen the mages of Winterhold carry to record their experiments and travels. The edges of the pages were tattered and yellow with age, some of their corners dog-eared. Tara reached out a hand and tentatively pulled one of the books toward her to inspect up close; it was as completely uninteresting as it had been from a distance. She picked it up and turned it in her hands to find no identifying markings on either cover. Finally, she set it down and glanced up at her companions.

"Open it," Faith prompted, leaning forward with interest.

Tara slid her index finger under the soft leather cover and lifted it, revealing a title page.

_The Journal of Lars, Nord Student of Restoration_

_Healer Mathus' Final Assignment_

She turned the page gently, though that was unnecessary; the paper was thick, good quality parchment.

_As I begin transcribing this, I am curled upon a tattered bedroll in the basement of a tiny farmhouse in the middle of the province of Skyrim. The farmer was very kind to take me in on this night. It is raining torrents outside and I could barely lift my feet from the mud to continue toward Rorikstead. I fear I will be unable to salvage my boots. But, I digress._

_The entire reason I am out in this terrible storm is because my instructor, Mathus, has assigned me a rather odd task as my final test. He says it will both utilize the things that I should have been learning from him this year and present me with trials I may not be prepared for. He was deliberately vague and it infuriated me. Regardless, it is the final assignment I will receive from him before I earn my colours as a fully-trained mage._

Tara looked up at Faith again.

"It's just a journal," she muttered, turning a few more pages and reading further.

_I have finally arrived in Markarth, the completely inhospitable city of stone. Mathus has charged me with studying the ancient Dwemer architecture of the city and comparing it to the more modern style of the Imperials. I don't know what any of that has to do with the School of Restoration (as I am a healer and most definitely not an architect), but Mathus knows best. He has given me four weeks to observe as much as I can._

_So far, the only thing that really confuses (amazes?) me is how the Dwemer were able to build a tower so tall without the aid of a mage. My very, _very_ minimal research on the culture of the dwarves tells me that they favored the schools of Logic and Science to those of magic. There must have been some kind of elaborate pulley system involved; that's the only explanation that makes sense._

Tara flipped toward the end of the journal and ran her finger down the mage's flowing handwriting.

_Today marks four weeks exactly since I arrived in Markarth. I have stared at the harsh, gray stone for so long that I am certain my vision has turned gray. I don't know what it is that Mathus wanted me to discover here, nor what skills I was supposed to have used. For all that I know, he just wanted me out of his hair for a while._

_I am leaving for Winterhold tomorrow at dawn. The wagon driver agreed to cart me back in exchange for the case of very effective healing potions that I acquired throughout my studies. Evidently, his wife has caught some kind of disease and they will help her greatly. I will just be happy to be back at the College (though I would trade the snow and ice for the milder climate in Markarth). When I get back, I expect that Mathus will look over my observations and grade me accordingly. It would be nice to graduate after all this._

Tara closed the journal and looked up at her two companions.

"I don't understand," she said quietly, sliding the journal back to the center of the table. "It's exactly the type of journal that every student of magic I have ever met carried."

"Yes, it is rather confusing, isn't it?" Buffy muttered thoughtfully. "The other one is much the same; inane observations about Markarth and its buildings."

Faith absently picked up the journal Tara had looked through and sighed.

"If they had some fantastical story somewhere between all the magical jargon, I reckon they would be worth at least a couple of septims," Faith said, the corners of her mouth pulling down in discontent. "But they don't even have that. No one wants to buy an inexperienced restoration mage's notes on building structure."

The atmosphere of their table had very suddenly turned from one of playful storytelling to one of serious business. Tara glanced back and forth between Buffy and Faith carefully, her mind racing through all the things she had heard. Nothing seemed to be adding up and it was obviously a point of frustration for Faith.

Well, Tara ammended as she drew a sharp breath through her nose, there was _one_ thing that was adding up.

"This is why you called me here?" she asked levelly, looking her oldest and closest friend in the eye. "To look at a couple of old journals that appear to have nothing of importance written in them and no value whatsoever?"

Faith leaned forward and propped her elbow on the table, the mysteriously worthless journal held tightly between her fingers. She waved it back and forth as she spoke.

"There _has_ to be a reason why the Silver-Bloods would list these as part of their secret fortune. I want to know what that reason is."

"You want to know if it leads to more treasure," Tara said. Faith's dark eyes glinted in the dim light of the Flagon.

"I want to know what they are hiding," Buffy said as she too leaned in, her voice taking on a deeper purr than before. She waved a gloved hand absently. "It could be nothing..."

"Or it could be something," Faith finished, tossing the journal back onto the table between them.

Tara could sense the barely contained frustration and excitement in her oldest and closest friend. If she was being honest with herself, she was more than a little curious about the entire situation as well. Everything she knew of politics and the Silver-Blood family in particular lead her to believe that they would not make the effort to hide something as seemingly meaningless as the journals the way that they had if they did not hold some kind of value.

Tara could not deny that the prospect of a mystery excited her. After all, she had a freedom now that she had never had before; she had no one to answer to anymore except for herself. What better way to celebrate her "liberation" than to involve herself in a potentially dangerous wild goose chase?

At the best case, she mused, they could find more of the Silver-Bloods' hidden wealth. At worst, she imagined that they could all end up in Cidhna Mine, Markarth's famous prison camp. And there was always the possibility that there was absolutely nothing to be found.

She doubted that highly, though.

Tara let the silence stretch on between the three of them as she reached for her tankard and drained the rest of the mead within it. Then, with a deep breath for confidence, she squared her shoulders and stared at Faith and Buffy.

"I'm in," she said finally.

Tara swore she could see every one of Faith's teeth through the grin that stretched her lips.


	6. Interlude: Sleepless

A/N: I had wanted to make a full chapter out of what you see below, but it didn't quite flow properly. However, the next chapter (the one that does flow properly) is still in the tweaking stage... So, as a compromise, I've posted this teeny, tiny little interlude that has no plot and possibly makes no sense. Please forgive me if it seems a little... unfinished. You can consider it an abandoned chapter that I only very slightly polished for posting. In other news, the next full chapter will be posting much more quickly. Enjoy!

* * *

It had been, at last estimate, around twenty-five hours since Willow had left the city of Riften to return to her outpost with her comrades.

Being that their station was only about a mile south of the city, it had not taken them long to get back to their own beds. William and Alexander had sacked out almost immediately after wriggling out of their armor. They were snoring before their heads had even touched their pillows. Willow, however, had lay awake for most of the day, her mind whirling.

At first, she had convinced herself that her academic mind was the thing that kept her awake. Coming face-to-face with a giant for the first time had been quite an experience, after all, and she had spent over half of her life professionally studying things like that. During her time at the Arcane University in the Imperial City, she would have been up for days taking detailed notes in various colors of ink on some obscure, outdated form of potion-making or something; her classmates generally considered her to be one of the more eccentric apprentices. All things considered, it was not that far of a stretch for Willow to be kept awake by the pursuit of knowledge.

However, when Willow realized that she had been sitting at her small writing desk for nearly an hour just staring at the single line of text that she had written in her journal ("_A Short Overview of the Giants of Skyrim_"), she had to concede that it was not her interest in this new creature that was keeping her from sleep.

She found that her mind continued to replay the incident in striking, possibly exaggerated, detail. She recalled first spotting the creature up close. It had been easily twenty feet tall and half as broad with a club the size of a tree trunk. Willow had never been one for fear, so to speak, as her curiosity usually overrode whatever 'fight or flight' responses that her brain may have been screaming. But, at that moment, she had truly felt as though confronting the creature was perhaps not the best idea.

As it had roared and thrashed about, Willow did her best to keep herself and her friends from serious injury (though she could make no promises as to what kind of serious injuries she would give them afterward for getting them into such a mess in the first place). She had fumbled through her scrolls trying to find something that would stop the angry creature's tirade. In the end, she had decided to throw caution to the wind and strike out with a flame spell.

That had been a mistake.

The giant had become angrier and Willow was out of ideas. She had not brought anything larger than her dagger with her on the trip, though it was a moot point because she was not skilled in physical combat. Her comrades, though they had trained for things like that, had been floundering. That was the exact moment when she had started to panic.

It was in the same moment that she noticed her comrades coaxing the giant to turn. Barely a second later, a woman had appeared from behind a boulder, her shoulders and arms rigidly set around the long bow she had aimed at the giant. She loosed the arrow with barely a whisper of movement and it caught the giant directly between the eyes, felling the creature.

In her relief and renewed anger at Alexander and William, she had momentarily forgotten about the woman for a few moments. However, she found that she would never forget the woman again when she saw her up close in the light of the giant-sized bonfire.

(This was part of the experience that she was sure her brain was exaggerating.)

The woman was tall and broad-shouldered, as most Nords tended to be, but it only seemed to enhance her feminine form. Her long, blonde hair had been pulled back with a tie and swayed silkily as she moved. And her large blue eyes had been bright even in the gloominess of the giant camp. She had smiled kindly and her eyes crinkled in the sweetest way. It had been as if time had slowed to a crawl as she took in the features of the woman in the flickering light.

And she had had the smoothest, most soothing voice.

"_Tara," _she had said as she introduced herself to William.

Tara. Like the ground beneath their feet. Solid and immovable while also being soft and gentle.

Willow had been mesmerized.

She had had to turn her attention to the dead giant to keep from staring for too long.

And then, as often happened when she found something particularly interesting, she had become engrossed by the plethora of new things to learn about the giant. In fact, after taking copious notes about the creature from just her own observations, she had bombarded Tara with questions about it. The blonde had patiently answered each one, never once appearing to be annoyed by her intense thirst for knowledge.

Willow knew now, of course, after many hours of contemplation, that her _intense thirst for knowledge_ was not what had kept her focused on Tara so intently. No, Tara herself was more interesting than most (or all) of the answers to the questions that she had been asking. The woman was soft-spoken and somewhat reserved, yet exuded a quiet confidence that seemed to draw Willow in like a moth to a flame.

In the month since her unit had arrived in Skyrim, Willow had not learned as much about the province as she did in those few hours of walking between the giant's camp and Riften. Tara's knowledge seemed to Willow to be incredibly immense, as if she had truly learned it through experience, which made sense being that she had grown up there. She supposed that she found it extraordinary because she herself, a native of the Imperial province of Cyrodiil, could not have told anyone anything about the landscape that she had not learned from a geography text. She had grown up in classrooms and carefully-controlled field trips. How different their upbringings must have been, Willow thought, for Tara to have such a casual awareness of things that Willow had only seen in the sometimes crudely-drawn illustrations in her books. Tara had to have spent hours, days, weeks at a time in the wilderness, _with_ the wilderness.

Every moment since she had left Tara in Riften, Willow had been contemplating all of these things. And after all of that contemplation, she was left only with the overwhelming desire to know more. This Nord woman was like another subject to research, except that there was no textbook for her to study, no diagrams or charts, and certainly no rubric against which to grade her answers. This was a person with thoughts and feelings and memories and she wanted to know all of them. She hoped that she could be a part of some of them someday. Perhaps she would never stop researching Tara.

She was getting ahead of herself and she knew it.

Willow sighed heavily and leaned back against the headboard of her standard-issue bunk. It had been there that she had ended up after many hours at her small writing desk, followed by a few hours of pacing, followed by many more hours at the desk. Her journal lay open in front of her on the blanket. The candle she had been levitating nearby for a little more direct light had burned nearly all the way down (it was the third so far).

She hardly knew the woman, but she could not squash the strong need to be talking to her that very moment. There were only a few hours until she was supposed to meet with Tara, the beautiful Nord, at the inn in Riften. And when she again met with the woman and saw her sparkling blue eyes, she could start her research anew. She could learn more about the woman that had so effectively captured her attention. Perhaps they would plan another meeting on the next day, and maybe the next after that.

Willow blew out the stub of the candle and plucked it from its position in the air to toss into the bin of used candles. She closed her journal with a decided snap and set it on her nightstand. She slid down on the bed to rest her head on the pillows and laid her hands on her stomach, intertwining her fingers.

Willow would wait patiently. In the mean time, she would have to decide on what questions were the most important ones to ask first. After all, she did not want to embarrass herself in front of Tara before they really got a chance to get to know each other. And she definitely wanted to get to know the intriguing blonde woman that had so captured her attention.

She closed her eyes and smiled to herself.

She had always appreciated anticipation.


	7. Points of Entry

A/N: Please excuse the wait... And the nasty cliffhanger to follow.

* * *

For as long as she could remember, Tara had been an exceptionally patient person. As a youngster in the orphanage, she would happily wait while the other children played with her favorite dolls or read her favorite books. And, even as a teenager at the manor, she had endured countless new farm hands asking her countless questions (often the _same_ questions over and over) about how things worked at the manor. Tara had answered every one and never lost her temper.

It was not until very recently that she had realized that her unerring patience was sometimes more of a hindrance than a help to her. What with her intolerant "family" and the other residents of Windhelm, her patience had developed a limit that she, thankfully, did not reach often. One marked example of her new-found limit had been when Lieske had confronted her about her trip to Riften. Tara did not find herself reaching that level of irritation very easily.

Today, however, Tara found that she was again rapidly approaching the limit to her patience, though for very different reasons.

Tara had returned to the Bee and the Barb very late the previous night (or perhaps very early in the morning; she was not sure). After agreeing to help Faith and Buffy try to find out more about the mysterious journals, she had been convinced by her close friend that several more tankards of celebratory mead were absolutely necessary. By the time she had coaxed a stumbling Faith into her bunk at the Flagon, the moon had been high in the sky, shining down on the water of the canal running through the underbelly of Riften. Tara had collapsed onto her usual bed in her usual room at the inn and had not stirred until mid-morning.

She had woken to thoughts of the journals and how they seemed to stump Faith, who she knew was brilliant in many ways, as well as the more aloof Buffy. She had thumbed through the journals several more times that night, skimming passages here and there as she turned the pages. She had found nothing that pointed even remotely to anything of importance. But now, she had admitted to herself, she was interested.

But it was not the journals that had Tara nearly at the end of her rope. It was not even the slight headache she still had from the wealth of mead she had drunk the night before.

No, that fact was that Tara had been sitting at a table in the bar area of the Bee and the Barb, under the extremely watchful red eyes of Keerava, since just after 11:30 in the morning. It was now nearly 1 o'clock in the afternoon and there was still no sign of Willow the mage.

Tara sighed heavily to herself.

She had been sitting in the same place for nearly an hour and a half, calmly sipping her tea and trying not to worry too much. After all, worrying never made anything any better. It generally just exacerbated the situation for the person who was worrying. She couldn't help it, however, because she had never looked forward to a lunch with someone else quite as much as she had looked forward to this one. Even when the journals were occupying the forefront of her mind, there was a small part of her that was constantly running through the snippets of conversation she had had with the red-headed mage, trying to remember every word of every sentence. It was the same part of her that was presenting her with images of the woman's green eyes crinkling with a smile as they had conversed in the early hours of the morning. The same part of her that was causing her stomach to flutter with anticipation.

But for the last hour, all of those words and images had been in the forefront of her mind, occupying her entire consciousness (except, of course, the part that was monitoring the time). She rolled the words and conversations over and over in her mind, trying to pick out places that she may have pushed the slight red-head away; pinpoint phrases that she had said that could have offended the woman. Of course, they had parted ways quite amiably. Willow had even embraced Tara warmly, daringly, as they said their goodbyes in front of this very inn.

That meant nothing, Tara thought to herself bitterly, especially if the mage was only interested in Tara for the knowledge she held. Willow was quite studious and seemed to be a highly focused learner, if their long conversation about giants had been any indication. How could Tara expect that she had felt the same flutterings that she herself had enjoyed?

She was being silly and she knew it. Something important had probably come up that Willow had had to deal with immediately. If Tara remembered correctly, Willow and her comrades had been away from their Imperial station for more than a week to retrieve the supplies she had requested. It was possible that their superiors had been displeased with their absence and quarantined them to the station.

These were all speculation, of course, but Tara reasoned that she would rather speculate all the possible reasons that could have kept Willow away instead of thinking of why Willow would choose not to come.

Tara sighed again as she raised her tea cup to her lips. She tipped it further and further back, leaning her head with it, only to find that she had no more tea left to drink. She nearly tossed the small piece of porcelain on the wooden table with a soft thunk, watching it roll on its base for a moment before settling.

"Please do not break my new china," Keerava muttered from behind her. Tara started and whipped her head around quickly.

"You scared me, Keerava," she said, hand at her chest in fright.

"I wouldn't have to scare you if you had answered me the first three times I called for you," Keerava said petulantly, reaching around Tara to pour more tea into her cup. "Are you going to be taking your lunch anytime soon?"

Tara sighed again, turning back to her tea, her eyes falling to the tabletop as the tall Argonian barmaid softly made her way around the table. She folded herself neatly into the chair across from Tara.

"Not again with the sighing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone stood you up for a date."

Tara's eyes shot up to meet Keerava's, her face flushing rapidly. Keerava watched Tara carefully as the blonde sighed for the third time in less than a minute.

"I-I was supposed to meet a friend here for lunch," she said quietly, wrapping her slim fingers around her teacup.

"It couldn't have been that Breton girl that you were meeting with today, considering how she snuck into my inn during the supper rush last night and how late you got in." Tara flushed again.

"No, I met with Faith last night. She told me she got past you."

Keerava chuckled humorlessly.

"Nothing gets past me. I just left her alone to find you... A decision I'm sure I will regret one day."

That got a tiny smile from Tara and she finally met the Argonian's eyes.

"I met someone on my way here," she began quietly, the redness in her cheeks stubbornly refusing to subside. Keerava leaned forward in interest. "Th-three Imperial soldiers. They were on their way back to their station when they stumbled into one of the giant camps up north. I helped them escape and they escorted me the rest of the way to Riften."

"You are meeting three Imperial soldiers for lunch?" The Argonian's brow furrowed in concern.

"N-n-no," Tara stuttered. "Just one."

Keerava watched the blonde carefully, noting how her blue eyes now skittered around the bar area nervously. She felt her own eyes widen as she started to piece together Tara's very vague story. In her concentration, it was much more difficult for her to keep an eye on every part of her inn.

Which was why, when the doors of said inn burst loudly inward and sunlight streamed brightly into the bar area, that both she and Tara started and jumped rigidly to their feet, their chairs toppling over behind them. The few other patrons of the inn whipped their heads about wildly, trying to find the source of the rather undue disturbance. Finally, all of the eyes in the room were trained on the brightly-lit and still open doorway and the slight figure standing within. A moment later, the heavy doors swung soundly shut behind the intruder.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" the slight red-head exclaimed as she nearly sprinted across the bar area to stand before the blonde Nord. "I was up all day writing down everything about that giant and the way you took it down with a single shot and all the things we talked about along the way and I was so busy that I forgot to sleep even though, and I said it to you myself, I'm fully aware of the fact that it takes me nearly a day and a half of solid rest to make up for entire days and nights of travel, which I also think I explained that I don't do very often..."

Keerava glanced around the inn, noting how the other patrons had gone back to their meals after it appeared that they were not in any danger.

"...Although, if I did, I probably would have a much more appropriate sleeping cycle better suited to being awake for days at a time, but that's not a very healthy way to live from what I hear. I haven't seen any studies on the mortality rate of nighttime adventurers versus daytime adventurers, though I would speculate that there is a disparity in the numbers..."

Tara, as startled as she had been by the entrance of the newcomer, had been calmed considerably the moment she realized that it was her missing lunch date, Willow the mage. In fact, she was even starting to feel a little bit warmer than usual. However, as the moments wore on, she was becoming more and more worried about how the redhead was getting oxygen to her over-working brain.

"...A-and that doesn't take into account the differences between the stress levels of different kinds of adventurers or if they are ever in any true danger, which is more than likely a hindrance to rest or sleep of any kind, not to mention-"

"Willow," Tara said softly. The red-head's mouth immediately snapped shut mid-sentence, her eyes widening comically as her thoughts finally caught up with the words that had been coming out of her mouth.

"I'm glad you made it."

Willow smiled shyly.

If Keerava had eyebrows and a hairline, she was absolutely certain that watching the interaction between Tara and the red-head would have caused them to migrate very close to each other on her forehead.

"I-I was starting to w-worry that you weren't coming," Tara continued quietly. Willow took a tiny step closer and her eyebrows furrowed deeply.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I overslept."

After the uncontrolled verbal eruption from only a moment before, Tara was struck by how concise Willow was now. It was as if a switch had been flipped. Unconsciously, she lifted her arms, her hands finding Willow's and taking them.

Tara looked Willow over. The mage's cheeks and forehead were somewhat flushed as if she had just come in from a brisk, windy walk (or, more likely, a hurried, frantic run). Her long, red hair, however, was laying perfectly straight over her shoulders, the light from the roaring fire casting subtle flashes of gold onto it. There were circles under her eyes which Tara assumed to be due to her lack of sleep, but she did not look weary or tired in the slightest. Her green eyes shown brightly with the excitement of seeing Tara again.

In place of the steel plate armor and iron helmet she had worn the day before, Willow had chosen a more casual outfit. She wore a plain white shirt of the same kind favored by many of the villagers, similar to the one Tara herself was wearing. Except instead of the flowing dark skirt that Tara had chosen, Willow had paired it with a pair of light cloth pants that clung to her hips, the legs cutting off at her mid-shin to leave her lower legs bare until the tops of her short boots. Tara found that she much preferred this softness to the clanking metal rigidity that she had seen before.

A cleared throat sounded from beside them and Tara glanced over to find the source of the sound. There Keerava stood, her long, scaly arms crossed in front of her chest and a knowing smile curving her lips. Tara felt the heat of her rapidly darkening blush as she realized that she had not finished telling the Argonian her story. She released one of Willow's hands and turned to face the barkeep more fully.

"Willow, this is Keerava, one of the owners of this inn. K-keerava," she paused, glancing between the two, "This is Willow. She's one of the soldiers I was telling you about."

Keerava merely stared at Willow. The redhead cleared her own throat and extended her hand to the Argonian.

"Oh, well, I'm actually a second-class Imperial Battlemage, though that isn't much of a distinction nowadays," she said nervously as Keerava accepted her handshake. "We get the same treatment as everyone else."

"So I've heard," Keerava muttered, her tone indecipherable. She turned to look directly at Tara, though her next words were still directed at Willow. "And you met Tara when she helped you escape a giant?"

Despite the shock of the situation, Keerava had heard every word of Willow's babble, Tara realized, and she knew that the sharp woman was not happy that she had left the details of this part out of her story the day before. She withered a little under Keerava's stern glare.

"Yes, she was absolutely brilliant!" Willow exclaimed proudly. "I was sure that we were about to be that thing's midnight snack, and then Tara just comes out of nowhere and plants an arrow between its eyes. I've never seen anything like it."

Tara's blush deepened and she rushed to reassure the woman who had become like family to her.

"I-it wasn't... I d-didnt'-"

"I'm sure the story is fascinating," Keerava said lightly, her entire tone seeming much brighter than it had been before. However, the look she gave Tara told her otherwise. "In fact, I'd love to hear it over dinner this evening. Hopefully, you'll be joining us?"

Willow grinned, oblivious to the trouble that she may have caused for Tara.

"I would love to!"

"Fantastic. Well, you girls have a seat. I'll bring your lunch right out."

With that, Keerava turned on her heels and disappeared behind the bar. Tara gazed after her blankly, doing her best not to think too much about the implications of Keerava's dinner plans. For as long as they had known each other, Tara had never been interested in anyone the way she was interested in Willow, nor had she ever specifically told Keerava or her husband of her preferences. Not that they would have a problem with it; Keerava was likely most concerned about the fact that Tara had not told her the full truth.

Tara was pulled from her thoughts when Willow released her hand to make her way around the table she had claimed for their lunch. Willow glanced guiltily at her overturned chair before leaning down to pick it up and set it back on its legs. Tara watched her sit and slide the chair forward so that she could rest her arms on the table. Tara finally moved, righting her own chair and smoothing her long skirt beneath her and she sat. Willow leaned forward excitedly.

"It's so great to see you again," she said, smiling widely at Tara. "I mean, it's only been a day, but it felt like much longer."

"Th-that may have something to do with the fact that you didn't sleep," Tara chided. Willow flushed.

"I _did_ sleep," she muttered, unable to be mad at herself any longer now that she was with Tara again. "Except it was this morning and I only woke up an hour ago."

Tara smiled.

"At least I got _some_ sleep," Willow continued, leaning back as Keerava returned with a fresh cup of tea for each of them and a small jug of cream. "Did you rest well?"

"Oh, yes," Tara said, glancing at the Argonian as she moved to tend the fire. "It's wonderful to be back home."

Willow paused, the cream jug tilted precariously over her teacup, and her brow furrowed.

"I thought you were from Windhelm?" she stated, though her tone made it sound more like a question. Tara wrapped her hands around her own cup of tea.

"Not originally. I grew up here in Riften at the orphanage. I only moved to Windhelm about 10 years ago when I was hired to work at a manor up there."

"Oh," Willow muttered, the lines of concern between her brows deepening as she stared at the table in thought. "I-I haven't been here long, but I've heard stories about that place... Not exactly good ones."

"They're probably not all exaggerations," Tara said quietly, leaning forward to try to catch Willow's downcast eyes. "It wasn't the best place to live by any means, but it is a much safer place than the streets."

Tara finally got the redhead to look up at her and smiled shyly.

"Thankfully," she continued, staring into Willow's bright eyes, "I had some friends that took very good care of me until I was ready to leave."

A tiny smile graced Willow's lips just as Keerava returned with two plates of sandwiches. She set them gently on the table between the two young women, effectively breaking the tension that had settled over them as they spoke about Tara's early life.

Tara was thankful for the interruption. She and Willow had only been speaking on a general level, but Tara knew it would not be long before Willow started to ask more questions. It was not the kind of subject that Tara wanted to delve deeply into over their first lunch together.

"Thank you," Willow said politely, smiling up at the Argonian.

"You're very welcome. Let me know if you need anything else," Keerava said quietly. With that, she disappeared behind the bar for a final time. Tara watched Willow pick up one of the sandwiches and take a small bite.

"So," Tara began, taking her own sandwich between her fingers, "What about you? Where are you from?"

"Oh, the Imperial City," Willow replied after taking another, larger, bite of her sandwich. "I was born and raised in the Market District. My parents still own a shop there." Willow paused and titled her head thoughtfully. "At least, I think they do."

Tara arched an eyebrow.

"You think they do? What does that mean?"

"Well," Willow began, "They had a general goods shop there for as long as I can remember. When I left for the Arcane University, my father hired a shopkeeper so he and my mother could travel, maybe take the business on the road. At my graduation last year, they still owned it. I haven't heard from them since then, though, so I don't know for sure. For all I know, they could have sold it and retired."

Tara understood how a couple of travelling merchants would be hard to keep contact with; she had not been friends with Faith for so long without an enormous effort. Still, one part of Willow's story caught her somewhat off guard.

"You graduated from the Arcane University last year?" she asked skeptically. "And you're a second-class battlemage?"

Willow blushed and glanced at the table.

"N-not that I know much about the Legion's ranking system," Tara continued carefully, "But that seems like a quick promotion."

"That's because it is," Willow said quietly.

As Tara watched Willow bring her teacup to her lips as she paused, a movement at the bar caught her eye. Keerava's head had appeared from around the bar wall and she stared intently at the doorway to the cellar. She stood perfectly still, her eyes narrowing to the thinnest of slits.

"Keerava?" Tara called, watching the Argonian carefully. Willow turned in her seat to look as well, glancing back to Tara as if to confirm the odd behavior. When Keerava did not respond, Tara stood, her eyebrows furrowed.

She had taken one step toward the bar when a raucous crash sounded from the cellar. Tara spun on her heel to face the doorway, her hand shooting to the dagger on her hip. As she slid the small weapon from its sheath, Willow appeared beside her, her hands glowing readily with magics, and dropped into a defensive stance. Keerava, with speed that Tara did not know she possessed, came around the bar, the large soup ladle that she had been washing still in hand. Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she gently pressed between Tara and Willow, heading straight for the doorway.

Before Keerava could reach the doorway, however, a dark-cloaked figure burst up from the stairway and into the common area, her dark hair disheveled and her breathing frantic.

"_YOU!_" Keerava hissed, raising the dripping ladle as if it were a club.

Faith threw her hands up in defense, ducking around the Argonian as the ladle came sailing toward her head. Tara stepped forward anxiously, grabbing handfuls of Faith's cloak when she came close enough and hauling the woman away from the angry barkeep.

"Faith, what-"

"What did you break down there?" Keerava demanded hotly. Faith scowled.

"_I'm_ not the one who put a wardrobe over the trap door to the sewers," she said indignantly. Keerava stepped forward, brandishing the ladle once more, and Faith flinched.

"You could have come in through the door like a regular person!"

"You wouldn't let me get three steps in the door if I did!" Faith pulled out of Tara's hold and straightened her cloak. She looked to the barkeep with frantic eyes. "And to be honest, I really do not have the time to argue with you about points of entry right now!"

Keerava frowned deeply and finally lowered her ladle, noting the very serious tone of Faith's voice.

"What's going on?"

Faith finally turned to Tara, running a hand through her messy hair and looking her directly in the eye.

"I've got to get out of town."

"What?" Tara asked. "Why?"

"The Silver-Bloods are in Riften," Faith said solemnly. Tara paled. "And they're definitely not happy."

"The Silver-Bloods?" Keerava questioned, her head tilting thoughtfully. She glanced back and forth between Faith and Tara. "What-"

"They're looking for you?" Tara interjected, cutting the Argonian off. Faith nodded in confirmation.

"They've been asking around the Flagon. Maul tipped me off."

"E-Excuse me?" Willow chimed from behind the group. Tara and Faith turned to look at her, Tara's lips quirking when she saw the redhead's hand raised as if asking a question in class. "Who are the Silver-Bloods?"

"It's only a matter of time before they come here," Faith said, turning back to Tara and ignoring Willow's question. The mage frowned.

"Hey!"

It was a known hazard of Faith's chosen occupation with the Thieves' Guild that she tended to make far more enemies than friends. Faith, to her credit, was skilled enough in evasion that her enemies had rarely been a danger to her friends. Tara counted herself lucky that the few times Faith's problems got out of hand, she had been in the relative safety of the Manor; Faith was able to deal with them before they got to her. This time, however, Tara felt that she had a more personal stake in Faith's problems.

She, Buffy, and Faith had met in the Flagon which, out of the way as it was, was still a public establishment frequented by some of the townspeople of Riften. There was no guarantee that they had not been seen or watched or overheard by someone. As trustworthy as the members of the Thieves' Guild were, Tara knew that most of the people of Riften looked out for themselves first as a rule and would not hesitate to give away her whereabouts. The journals themselves complicated things further. Though they were a small part of what Faith and Buffy had taken from the Silver-Bloods, Tara's interest in them would make her a threat in their eyes. That meant that this time, Faith's problems were her problems.

Tara looked back and forth between her dearest friend and the mage whose company she had been thoroughly enjoying. When her eyes met Faith's, she knew her decision had been made. She reached out a hand to the redhead and Willow took it gently, stepping closer to Tara.

"Willow, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, squeezing her fingers slightly. "I h-have to go with her."

"Why?" Willow asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Tara, what is going on?"

"Listen," Faith cut in, glancing between the pair warily, "We really don't have time to explain. We need to move."

"My things are upstairs," Tara said, dropping Willow's hand with a significant look into her confused eyes. "I'll just be a moment."

With that, Tara jogged toward and up the stairs to her room. Willow stared after her for a moment before turning back to Keerava and Faith.

"Do you need anything?" Keerava asked Faith, her tone dripping with concern.

"I don't know," Faith answered honestly, looking somewhat lost. "There's no telling how long this will go on."

Keerava nodded and patted the brunette on the shoulder as she moved toward the bar. Faith turned her attention to Willow.

"I'm Faith," she said, holding out a hand for Willow to shake. The redhead took it.

"Willow. I'm very confused."

"Tara and I have been close for years," Faith explained, looking Willow in the eye. "A lot of people around here know about that. If I have to disappear, so does she."

Willow frowned.

"Something tells me there's more to it than that."

Faith smirked and eyed Willow intently, deliberately avoiding answering.

"What about Keerava?" Willow asked after a moment of silence, flushing under Faith's scrutiny.

"I can take care of myself," the Argonian said as she returned with a small sack of food. Faith took it gratefully. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened."

Faith's cheeks reddened uncharacteristically. Before she could reply, Tara returned with her bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Faith asked, glancing at the more practical riding pants Tara had changed into before training her eyes on the doors of the inn. The blonde nodded.

"Let's go," she said quietly, looking sadly at Willow. "I really am sorry to run off like this. I wouldn't do it if it wasn't important."

"I believe you," Willow mumbled. She reached again for Tara's hand and took it. Tara stepped closer, brow furrowed deeply.

"I meant what I said earlier; I'm glad you came." Willow nodded. "I-I don't know how long I'll be gone... Can I write to you?"

"Of course," Willow said.

"As soon as I can," Tara promised.

Silently, and without giving it a single thought, she lifted their joined hands between them and pressed her lips softly into Willow's knuckle. Willow gasped quietly as a tingle shot up her arm from the place that Tara's lips had touched and settled in her belly. She gazed into Tara's troubled blue eyes for moments or hours, her mouth opening to say something that she had since forgotten.

"T..." Faith warned, her dark eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. "We're running out of time for goodbyes here."

Tara tore her eyes away from Willow's to glance at the Breton.

"Okay."

Willow blinked rapidly, trying desperately to organize her thoughts. Tara's hold on her fingers loosened as she began to pull away. Before Willow's brain could catch up with the rest of her body, her fingers tightened around Tara's and her arm jerked. The blonde stumbled forward into Willow, too surprised to stop herself. And Willow, feeling somehow far braver than she actually was, reached her other hand up to the side of Tara's head, guiding the blonde's lips to meet her own.

It was a fairly chaste kiss as kisses go, though Tara could have been fooled by the floating, light-headed sensation she felt as Willow's soft lips caressed hers. She had no experiences to compare it to, except perhaps her first sip of good mead; heady in flavor, exhilarating, but smooth like honey. Her heart pounded in her chest as Willow pressed closer to her, her hand finally separating from Tara's and joining its twin to hold her face gently in place against Willow's.

The kiss came to a natural conclusion after a few moments, Willow's lips slowing against Tara's until they pulled only millimeters apart. Tara blinked her eyes open slowly, her breathing somewhat labored, and locked them once more with Willow's. She swallowed loudly.

"I-I..."

"Tara!"

Tara started and jerked her gaze toward Faith just as the doors of the inn burst open loudly for the second time in as many hours. This time, however, they had been kicked clean off of their hinges and slammed unceremoniously into the walls on either side of the doorway before landing on the wood floor in a cloud of dust. The afternoon sunlight shone brightly through the doorway, creating a halo of light around the two large, heavily armored men that stood where the doors once had.

The few other patrons of the inn leapt from their seats and pressed themselves against the walls, eyeing the men warily. Tara pulled Willow behind her as she and Faith turned to face the newcomers. They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the mage, Keerava joining them quickly with her shoulders squared and her scaly tail flicking dangerously.

"I think now may be a good time for that daring escape," Keerava hissed nearly silently.

"I think you may be right," Faith replied.

Tara swallowed hard.


	8. Egress

A/N: Hello again. I just wanted to take a moment to thank those who have left reviews (DangerGirl123, True2YourHeart, and Guest). I'm terrible at replying to them, but I do see and appreciate them very much! Now, on with the show.

* * *

The two men stepped nonchalantly over the threshold of the inn, their heavy steel boots thudding on the floor ominously. They were tall and broad Nords, one ducking to avoid smacking his head on the top of the door frame. As they made their way into the inn, Tara noted the heavy broadswords on each of their hips, as well as the very sturdy steel plates covering them from their necks to the tops of their boots. She squeezed Willow's hand reflexively.

"Good afternoon," Keerava said loudly and evenly, staring the much larger men down. "What can I get for you gentlemen this afternoon?"

"We're here on behalf of Thonor Silver-Blood and the whole of the Silver-Blood estate," said the larger of the two men, his hand resting threateningly on the hilt of his sword. "We have orders to bring these thieves to justice. By any means necessary."

Faith raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Oh yeah? You and what army?" she spat. The shorter man frowned.

"You'll want to be more polite, thief," he warned, taking a step forward. "We're not the men to anger at this moment."

"You're only a couple of Silver-Blood lackeys," Faith continued, apparently unaffected by the way the men now hulked forward menacingly. "What do you think makes you better than the seven guards that tried to stop me in Markarth?"

Tara was paling more and more by the second. She could feel Willow trembling behind her by the grip she had on her hand and turned her head to hiss at Faith.

"Faith you probably shouldn't-"

"We're highly respected mercenaries," the tall one bellowed, startling several of the inn's patrons. He gripped his sword more fully and pulled it from its sheath with an ominous grate of metal. Keerava stiffened. "You'd to well to come with us before we have to use force."

Faith scoffed, wholly unconcerned with the situation. Her eyes danced between the mercenaries.

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it."

Tara reached her other hand and gripped Faith by the wrist. In the same second, the shorter man drew his own sword with a roar as he and his companion charged forward. For that brief moment, Tara felt as if time were moving in slow-motion; it seemed to take minutes rather than fractions of seconds for the mercenaries to get within striking distance of them. As they raised their swords to lay what were sure to be punishing blows, Tara felt herself begin to flinch. Her hands squeezed Faith and Willow's wrists tightly, preparing to pull them out of the way in a move that she was sure would not be fast enough to stop them from being hurt.

She saw Keerava's tail flick sharply out of the corner of her eye and felt a strange warmth blossom behind her back, as if she were standing in front of a fireplace. Suddenly, a small plume of flame exploded between them and the mercenaries. The flames were consumed in an instant by a thick black smoke that spread rapidly into a cloud in the middle of the inn. The men staggered, pulling their sword arms down to cover their faces as the cloud grew and grew, completely obscuring them from view.

Tara's jaw fell open as she prepared to yell out, but before any sound could come from her mouth, she was tugged to the side by a now-frantic Faith.

"Now's our chance!" she shouted, Tara barely hearing her over the coughs and yells of the mercenaries on the other side of the smoke cloud.

Tara glanced quickly at Keerava, seeing the Argonian now splayed on the floor of the inn, unmoving, as if she had been knocked back by the blast.

"Keerava!" she cried.

"Let's go!" Faith nearly screamed, pulling firmly on Tara's arm and dragging her toward the stairway to the cellar.

Tara let herself be lead through the doorway and down the steps into the sparsely-lit cellar of the Bee and the Barb. She and Faith stepped carefully around the overturned wardrobe and its contents as they made their way to the trapdoor in the corner. Faith tugged on the metal ring and the small door opened silently, revealing a worn wooden ladder descending into the darkness.

It was at that moment that Tara realized she was still holding tightly to Willow's wrist. She snapped her head to the side, eyes widening in shock as she took in the slightly-disheveled mage. Willow, to her credit, appeared to be calm.

They said nothing to each other as Tara took her first step onto the ladder, refusing to break Willow's gaze until she had climbed too far into the trapdoor to see her anymore. As she lowered herself into the dark passage, she felt the ladder shake as the mage and Faith each joined her on its questionable rungs. Faith pulled the trapdoor closed above them with a thud, shutting them into nearly-pitch blackness.

After few minutes of climbing, Tara touched her feet on the stone ground of one of Riften's many dark, moist sewer tunnels. She was joined quickly by Willow and then Faith. Tara grasped Willow's hands and pulled her into a tight embrace and Faith leaned against the tunnel wall, forcing a heavy breath out in a long huff.

"That was a close one," she muttered, pushing her dark hair out of her face with a shaking hand.

Tara pulled back from Willow, keeping a tight hold to her hands.

"By the gods, Willow!" she exclaimed, her voice bouncing off the walls of the tunnel. Faith shushed her sharply. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine," the mage whispered back. She stared into Tara's eyes in the near-darkness, trying to asses her.

"We need to keep moving," Faith said after a moment, pushing off of the wall and dropping her pack to the floor. She knelt and began rummaging through it carefully. "I don't know how bright those two are. They could already be on our heels."

Willow turned to the Breton, her brows low and furrowed.

"What exactly just happened?" she asked roughly. "What have you dragged Tara and I into?"

"She didn't drag me, sweetie," Tara said quietly.

"That doesn't answer my question," Willow prodded. "I want to know why I almost just became some mercenary's new bedroom rug-which, by the way, doesn't seem like a very lawful way to apprehend a fugitive."

"That question may take more time to answer than we have right at this moment," a voice hissed from the blackness down the tunnel. Willow and Tara started and spun in place to face the dark figure that materialized out of the shadows around them. "Also, it's probably worth noting that we are _far_ from the Imperial City and its laws."

"Nice of you to join us, B," Faith mumbled around the dagger she had clamped between her teeth while searching her pack.

"Nice of you to engage the cold-blooded killers that are after us after I specifically told you not to," Buffy replied evenly, her narrowed yellow eyes glinting dangerously at Faith. Faith paid her no mind, however, as she finally found what she was looking for in her pack and dropped the dagger back into it. She lifted the scroll she had found and unrolled it, whispering the spell written on it and illuminating the tunnel with an unearthly blue glow.

Willow gasped loudly as the light fell on Buffy, stepping back from her in surprise.

"You're a Khajiit!" she exclaimed.

"Willow," Tara chided quietly. The mage ignored her.

"Does that bother you, Imperial?" Buffy purred lowly, her tone unreadable, as she trained her thinned eyes on Willow.

"It's a little bit of a surprise," Willow admitted, glancing significantly between Tara and Faith as if they should have said something. Finally, her gaze fell back on Buffy. "Just... How did you get inside the city walls?"

Buffy's ears flattened in annoyance.

"We're not technically within the city walls right now," she hissed, gesturing at the tunnels around them. "I reckon I'm allowed to be here, at least."

Willow frowned and opened her mouth to respond.

"This is off to a good start," Faith said sardonically as she stood back up with her pack. "Buffy, this is Willow. Willow, Buffy. Can we go now?"

"You seem to have quite an array of oddly named friends," Buffy commented dryly. Willow scoffed.

"Excuse me," she groused, miffed. "What kind of a name is 'Buffy' anyway?"

"And feisty to boot," Faith muttered with a smirk. "Good choice there, T."

Tara blushed deeply.

"I th-thought we needed to keep moving," she said quietly, raising an eyebrow at Faith in challenge. The smirk on Faith's lips faded a little.

"Yes, let's get going," Buffy agreed, burning her gaze back into the Breton.

Buffy swept between Willow and Tara to take the lead of the group as Faith hiked her pack onto her shoulder. Willow stared after her thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed. Tara squeezed her hand gently, bringing Willows eyes back to her.

"Did you find a place to lay low for a while?" Faith asked Buffy as the pair started walking further into the gloomy sewer tunnel. Willow, returning Tara's squeeze, lead Tara to follow.

"Unfortunately, the safe houses aren't as safe as they claim," Buffy sighed. "My sources told me that everything to the north and west is off-limits. There's nothing closer than Falkreath, and that might be much closer to the Silver-Bloods than we want to be right now."

Faith hummed in agreement and lowered her eyes to the stone ground in thought.

"I guess hanging around the sewers until this all blows over is out of the question?" she quipped. Buffy scoffed, but Tara cut in before she could respond.

"If I have to be on the run, can we at least be in fresh air?" Faith chuckled.

"Another option," continued Buffy, "Would be to head north toward Windhelm and just keep moving from town to town. It's not practical, but it could work."

"Not a chance," Faith said, glancing significantly at Tara. "We run the risk of them tracking Tara's movements to Chillstream Manor. That would be way too close for comfort."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions," Buffy said.

Buffy and Faith lapsed into silence as they lead the way down the twists and turns of the damp sewer tunnels. They seemed to know their way around, guiding Tara and Willow through junctions without even looking where they were going. To Willow, it felt as if they were following blindly; she was finding it difficult to trust Faith, but she had no trouble trusting Tara and that was enough.

"Is Chillstream Manor the one you work for?" Willow asked Tara in a whisper. Tara nodded.

"'Worked for,' I guess," she replied. Willow frowned.

"What happened?"

Tara sighed.

"Faith sent me a letter say that she needed to meet with me. That's why I was going to Riften," she explained quietly, barely audible over the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls. "My employers had never agreed with my trips to Riften anyway, but we had a disagreement the night before I was supposed to leave. To make a long story short, I left without exactly saying goodbye."

"And now you don't know when you will be back?"

"If ever," Tara said. She glanced over at Willow. "If we make it through this, I think I may strike out on my own. Try to make a life for myself."

"That's a good goal," she said, smiling softly.

One side of Tara's lips quirked up in response as she glanced sideways at Willow. Even in the gloom of the tunnel, she saw the way the mage's eyes brightened at her smile and she felt that fluttering in her belly, the one that was becoming more and more familiar to her. The one that only seemed to happen any time that Willow looked at her.

As they continued on in silence, Tara considered that maybe she was a little more enamored with the mage than she had originally thought. At first, she had imagined at least an academic partnership of some kind, something that would allow her to spend time with Willow and Willow to learn more about the province of Skyrim, something that would also have the possibility for 'more' down the line. It had been a stronger version of the innocent interest that she had felt for other women from time to time, but she had thought nothing of it.

Her mind flashed back to the dream she had had at the inn just yesterday afternoon just before Faith had woken her. She had dreamt that she and Willow were enjoying each others' company in a beautiful meadow, embracing beneath the warming rays of the summer sun. The dream had made her feel as if things had always been that way and would only ever be that way until the end of her days. It had been so joyous and wonderful that Tara had, for a moment, been disappointed to wake up to Faith. That, combined with the events of the day so far, made it obvious to Tara that she had been sorely mistaken.

Tara had what she considered to be surprisingly strong feelings for a woman that she had met only two days earlier while helping said woman avoid being stomped to death by a giant. She They had even shared a, though chaste, heart-pumping kiss when she had thought that they may never see each other again. A part of her felt that she was taking things far too seriously what with the fledgling state of their friendship. But the rest of her, the majority of Tara that lived life in abstracts and trusted her emotions and instincts, knew that they she was moving at the perfect pace with Willow. It should have scared her, she thought, to be so comfortable with the situation, so certain of it.

She found, however, that she was not even the slightest bit frightened. Her gut told her it was right, even if it would not stop fluttering.

"I hope Keerava's okay," Willow said suddenly, breaking Tara's train of thought.

She was ashamed to realize that she had got so caught up that it took her a second to remember the image of the Argonian sprawled upon the floor of the Inn as they had made their escape. Her brow furrowed.

"She's fine," Faith said from ahead of them and Tara's eyes darted up to stare at the back of her dark-haired head. "It was a parlor trick."

"What the smoke?" Willow asked. Faith nodded. "No, I figured that out when I saw her pull out the vial."

"Oh, so you put the little spark into it," Faith said, nodding in approval. "That was a nice touch."

Tara glanced at Willow, surprised and a little impressed.

"That was _you_?" she asked. Willow smiled weakly, managing to look somewhat abashed.

"I meant after," Willow said, pulling the attention from herself, "When she was out cold on the floor. The explosion wasn't that strong."

"Plausible deniability," Faith explained. "The smoke powder has some weird Argonian herb in it, puts them out for about an hour the minute they breathe it in. See, if she's unconscious when we escape, then she couldn't possibly know how we escaped or where we're going. It's all part of the plan."

"Yes," Buffy agreed. "Those mercenaries saw her as clearly as you did. They can question her as much as they want, but they know that they won't get anything useful. Therefore, Keerava is protected and we get a head start."

"Wow," Willow said, looking suitably impressed.

"Rule number one," Faith continued, "Don't get dead. Rule number two: Look out for your friends."

Willow went quiet, her face clouded in thought as she worked out the plan that Faith and Keerava had apparently concocted as a contingency. Tara knew by the way the mage's brow sat low over her eyes that she was probably wondering exactly how often they had to use it.

"It's only for emergencies," Tara said quietly, drawing Willow's gaze to her face. "This doesn't happen very often."

"You could say that we're _usually_ consummate professionals," Faith joked, glancing over her shoulder and waggling her eyebrows comically. Buffy chuckled wryly and Willow smiled.

After a few more minutes, Tara noticed the sewer tunnel start to widen slightly around them. The sound of their foot steps slowed to a stop as Faith and Buffy passed through the end of the tunnel and into a small cistern with several different passages branching off from it. The cistern was lit by sunlight streaming in from a dripping grate far above them, rendering Faith's lighting spell obsolete. She opened the scroll once more and spoke the incantation to end the spell, the light in the cistern dimming only slightly.

"Well," Buffy began, an air of finality in her voice, "This is as far as we can go without a plan. We'll be safe here until nightfall, but we need to have some kind of plan for where we're going."

Faith sighed, dropping her pack to the damp ground and crouching down next to it.

"I think I may have an idea," Willow said quietly after a few moments of silence. Buffy and Faith both turned to look at her, the Khajiit regarding her thoughtfully. Tara shot her a questioning glance as well, her eyes searching Willow's.

"Is it any good?" Faith asked.

"I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't think it was."

Buffy's lips quirked almost imperceptibly.

"What is your idea?" she asked, looking Willow in the eye for the first time. Willow took a deep breath.

"I have a place we can hide and you guys can lay low for as long as you need to until this all blows over," she said carefully. "But you have to tell me what this is all about. There can't be any secrets between us. We're in this together now."

Faith and Buffy glanced at each other critically, reading each others' glances silently. Tara, very nearly beaming with pride, tried not to smile too widely at Willow's words. She was not afraid to admit that Willow demanding that they were all 'in this together' made her stomach do the flutter thing for the nth time that day.

After a few moments of silent deliberating, Buffy stepped stepped away from Faith and approached Willow. She brought both hands up and began to pull off her gloves, exposing her blonde-furred fingers and dangerous-looking claws. Buffy stopped a foot away from Willow and extended one of her hands.

"You've got a deal."

Willow shook on it.

* * *

It was almost nightfall when the four of them finally emerged from the sewer tunnels below the city of Riften.

After deciding on a plan, they had taken one of the tunnel branches leading from the cistern and followed it for a while, twisting and turning around what Tara assumed were buildings or other tunnels. Eventually, the tunnel came to what appeared to be a dead end. Buffy, however, ran the soft pads of her clawed hands over the brick wall at the end of the tunnel, humming lowly when she found the brick she was looking for. She pressed it into the wall and they all watched as the brick wall before them slid upward into the ceiling by some mechanism, leaving a wide opening to a tunnel dug into the ground.

Faith lead the way through the new passage, Buffy taking up the rear to ensure the wall closed back up behind them. They had trekked for a couple of hours through the dirt tunnel until they reached a steel grate set into the tunnel wall.

Faith again took the lead, swinging the grate open and poking her head out. When she deemed the coast to be clear, she waved the rest of them out. They emerged beneath a rocky overhang on one of the many small islands near the southern coast of Lake Honrich just as the sun was sinking behind the western horizon.

"Feel like takin' a swim?" Faith asked the group, peering around both sides of the boulder that took up most of the tiny island to get her bearings.

Buffy sighed heavily in response.

"It wouldn't be my first choice, but if it's for the greater good..."

"Stop being so dramatic," Faith muttered. "It's barely a hundred feet to the shore."

"A-are we close?" Tara asked Willow quietly while Faith and Buffy continued to bicker good-naturedly as they prepared themselves for the swim.

Willow squinted into the twilight around them as she tied her red hair into a ponytail.

"Actually, yes," she said with a note of surprise. "That tunnel may have been dark, damp, and completely out of the way, but it was effective."

"You doubted my navigational skills?" Faith grumbled from the rock she had seated herself on to pull the dagger and lock pick from her boots. "I'm hurt."

Buffy scoffed, pulling her dark cloak from her shoulders and folding it into as small a package as she could. She stuffed it into Faith's pack and smoothed her simple linen pants and shirt over her stomach.

"Who's being dramatic now?"

"Anyway," Willow cut in, "After we get to the shore, it should only be about a twenty minute walk."

"That's not so bad."

Faith and Tara tightened the straps of their packs tightly, ensuring they were very secure.

"Let's get moving," Faith said as she swung both packs over her shoulders and across her chest.

"Yes," Buffy hissed. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

"After you, princess." Faith gestured toward the water and Buffy frowned deeply.

Without another word, Buffy the Khajiit took a deep breath and waded into the water, grimacing. Faith waggled her eyebrows at Tara and Willow before following Buffy into the water.

"You know how to swim?" Willow asked, grasping Tara's hand in hers.

"Yes," the blonde replied with a small smile.

"Good. Okay."

With that, the pair of them entered the water, only releasing their hands when they were deep enough to need them to stay afloat.

They swam smoothly through the dark water of the lake, following the wake of Faith's quick, steady stroke and Buffy's less-elegant paddle. It took several minutes to reach the shore, the sun's disappearance beneath the horizon casting a chill into the air.

Buffy was the first to reach the shore, hauling herself out of the water with sputtering breaths. Faith was just behind her, immediately taking off their packs, followed a moment later by Tara and Willow. Tara watched as Buffy shook as much water as she could from herself before Faith liberated her warm, dry cloak from her pack and wrapped it around her shoulders. Buffy pouted deeply as she shivered under the heavy wool.

"I hate water," she muttered in a gravelly voice. Faith chuckled.

"You did fine," the Breton assured her, rubbing her hands up and down Buffy's arms through the cloak. "And look, you're even still breathing."

Buffy nodded and let her head fall forward onto Faith's shoulder, her soaked fur making no difference to Faith's wet clothes.

Tara raised an eyebrow.

Willow picked up Tara's pack and slung it over her own shoulder, coming to stand by Tara's side. She took the blonde's hand unconsciously when she was close enough, following her line of sight to the miserable Khajiit and her comforter.

"Are they-"

"Shh," Tara shushed, cutting Willow off quietly. "It's not important."

That did not mean that she was not going to ask about it later, though.

After a few moments, Buffy broke away from Faith and pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Faith swept her wet hair off of her face and over her shoulders, reaching down to pick up her own pack.

"Willow, are you ready?" Buffy asked in a subdued tone. Willow nodded.

"I could conjure a fire to dry us off a little, if you want," she offered quietly.

Buffy flashed her teeth at Willow in a genuine smile, her yellow eyes crinkling.

"As much as I would appreciate that," she began, "I would much rather make it safely into hiding."

With that, the four of them set off again heading due south, this time with Willow in the lead. They padded across soft grass toward a stone-paved road, their boots squelching wetly with every step. The four of them took to the road, following it west for a few hundred feet. A small stack of stones marked the entrance to another, unpaved road that snaked into the tree line. They could barely make out the worn footpath in the growing darkness, but Willow knew it well and lead them between the trees with ease, shivering in the chill of the air.

They had been on the path for only a few moments when Tara began to hear the sound of voices in the distance. She could just make out some laughter as she peered through the darkness, trying to see through the trees. Willow quickened her step as they walked around the latest curve of the path, the others following suit.

Finally, they rounded the thickening trees to see a large farmhouse situated in a clearing that backed up to the rocky face of the mountains that lined the southern border of Skyrim. The land on one side of the house had been fenced off and Tara could see the tops of potatoes, leeks, and cabbages sticking up from the soil. On the other side of the house, a large covered porch appeared to be under construction, the rough shape of the porch and the beams to support the roof already in place. Near the main door of the house sat a worn stump surrounded by chopped firewood and a water pump. In the center of the large clearing between the tree line and the house sat a large fire pit with flames already roaring healthily within it.

As they moved closer, to the fire, Tara could begin to make out the words the voices were saying.

"-Reckon by next week?"

"Next week?" another voice cried, outrage in his tone. "I'm pretty good, but I'm only one man."

Tara furrowed her brows, her head cocking to the side as she recognized the voices.

"Oy, is that Willow?" the first voice asked. A quiet scuffling noise sounded and suddenly, two rather muscular men in plain farmers' clothes appeared from behind the fire, their eyes darting around the wet, disheveled group. "And Tara Giant-Slayer, too."

"Hello, William," Tara said, blushing brightly at the man that had spoken as he lifted his twill grass roll to his lips with a smirk. She turned her gaze to the dark haired man next to him and he waved goofily at her. "Alexander."

"Well," William began as he exhaled a lungful of smoke into the clearing, "I was going to ask what took you so long to get back, but it seems you got into some hot water."

"It was pretty cold, actually," Faith said, her wary eyes trained on the blonde man. He caught her stare and smirked at her.

"Name's William. This is Alexander. You are?"

"They're friends of mine," Willow cut in quickly, feeling the tension rolling off of Faith in waves. "They're going to be staying here with us for a little while."

"How long?" Alexander asked, eyeing the newcomers warily.

"What does it matter?" William muttered, exhaling another cloud of smoke as he flicked his grass roll into the firepit as he trained his eyes on Buffy who, Tara noted, had pulled her hood back up over her head at some point.

"That's Faith," Willow continued, gesturing toward the Breton.

"And who might this be?" William asked, nodding toward the cloaked Khajiit next to Willow.

"That's Buffy."

William snickered.

"That's quite an exotic name."

Willow ignored him and turned to Alexander instead.

"We'll need to get changed and dried off. Has anyone started supper yet?"

He nodded.

"Mikael put some stew on earlier. I'll let him know to add a few more bowls... And make up the other beds."

Willow smiled at him gratefully, turning to Tara and Faith as he walked away.

"You'll be all set in no time," she said cheerfully. "Alexander will take care of everything."

Suddenly, a loud crack resounded across the clearing followed by a heavy thud. Tara, Willow, and Faith all whipped their heads toward the noise, seeing Buffy standing calmly in front of a slowly dissipating cloud of dust. As the dust cleared, they saw William sprawled in the dirt, his short white-blonde hair laying haphazardly across his forehead and a deep red mark forming on his cheekbone. Still, he smirked up at Buffy, his eyes twinkling in the light of the fire.

Buffy reached up to lower the hood from her head, resting it around her shoulders as she glared at William. The smirk quickly slid from his face as he took in her appearance, his eyes widening and mouth falling slack.

"I think I may be a little _too_ exotic for you," she spat.

It was Faith's turn to smirk.


	9. Whiplash

_A/N: A bit of a short one... _

* * *

"So, this is a hell of a place," Faith muttered quietly as she, Buffy, and Tara each began to extract themselves from their wet clothing.

Alexander had lead them inside the farmhouse to a large room with seven plain wooden beds spaced evenly against the walls. He had graciously afforded them as long as they needed to dry off and change clothes, promising that the farmhouse's other occupants would steer clear of them until they were ready.

"Yes," Buffy agreed, running a towel over her arms and chest. "When she said she lead an Imperial Legion outpost, I expected a little more..."

"Stone?" Faith supplied.

"That, too," Buffy said. "I guess I thought it would be like the other camps around Skyrim. You know, regimented."

Tara had seen the camps that Buffy spoke of in her travels. They were temporary towns in miniature, tucked away in various places around the province so as not to be found easily by the Stormcloaks. If they were to be discovered, Tara imagined that it would not take very long to tear down the sparse tents and snuff the fires. The camps were hives of business and activity, homey only in the sense that there were bed rolls on which to sleep and a soldier assigned to man the cooking pot at all times.

The farmhouse had not been what she had expected either. It was very nearly like any of the other family-run farms around Skyrim: casual, inviting, and warm. They had entered the main house to find a roaring fire in the fireplace and the smell of a hearty stew in the cooking pot. Except for the armor racks near the front door that held several Imperial-branded breastplates and shields, she would have thought they had walked into someone's home. She supposed that it was like that on purpose. If Willow and her soldiers were only there for research, they would need to blend in so as to not be attacked at a moment's notice.

"It's a research station," Tara explained quietly as she pulled on a dry pair of linen pants and tied off the drawstring at her waist. "They study things about the province and do their best to stay out of the war."

"That's makin' me feel real safe here, T," Faith muttered. "Not that being in a house full of Imperial soldiers is a 'safe' option for me generally."

"You shouldn't feel any less safe just because they're researchers," Buffy said through the shirt she was pulling over her head. "It's obvious that they are all trained soldiers."

"My point exactly! I'm basically in bed with the law."

Tara rolled her eyes while Buffy chuckled.

"Better than being anywhere near those mercenaries," Tara observed. Faith had nothing to say to argue with that.

"Besides," Buffy added, "This place would make a fine base of operations while we try to find some more information about those journals."

Tara looked up, eyes wide. Before she could comment, though, there was a knock at the door.

"Are you guys nearly ready?" Willow's voice called through the door.

"Just a minute!" Faith called back, still working on the buttons of her shirt. Buffy smoothed her blonde fur back from her face.

"Actually, I'm finished," she said to Faith. "I'm going to spend a few minutes by the fire. I'll see you soon."

With that, Buffy left the room, the thud of the door closing behind her muffling her quiet greeting to Willow as they moved toward the common area of the house. Tara finished tying her still-damp hair in a ponytail while she watched Faith's eyes follow the Khajiit out of the room.

"So..." Faith began as she slid the last button through its hole. "Willow seems like quite a catch."

Tara flushed scarlet and shot a glare at Faith.

"No, really," Faith insisted, "I mean it! Even though you completely forgot to mention her to me last night, I think she's great."

"You can really talk," Tara countered, the heat in her cheeks refusing to go away. "You're about as subtle as a brick through a window."

It was Faith's turn to blush this time, the color seeming unnatural on her pale cheeks.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. I'll just pretend that I don't see the puddle of drool at your feet anytime Buffy is around."

Faith glared sternly at Tara and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's not like that," she said curtly. Tara threw her hands up in surrender.

"Whatever you say," she muttered.

Tara lifted her pack from the floor and set it on one of the vacant beds that had been made up for them, effectively claiming it. She dug through it idly while Faith pouted silently, pulling out the rest of her clothes and laying them out on the bedspread to take inventory. Finally, Faith sighed loudly.

"It's... complicated," she mumbled, moving to plop down on the bed next to Tara's, which she guessed belonged to one of the soldiers. Tara glanced up at her and caught the uncharacteristically serious look on her face. "But I guess the simple explanation would be that we... Understand each other."

Tara smiled softly at Faith's tone, introspective and subdued. It was rare that Faith let anyone see her more thoughtful side through all of the bravado, so Tara counted herself lucky to have this moment with her.

"I understand," she said quietly, moving around the bed to sit across from Faith. Faith leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"Do you?" Faith asked with interest, a curious sparkle lighting her eyes.

Tara smiled to herself as she pulled her legs up onto the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Willow makes my stomach flutter and I find myself grinning like an idiot when I'm with her," she murmured. "She just has this curiosity about her, this need to know everything about everything, even though she already seems to know a lot... At first I thought we could have a... a friendship."

"And now?" Faith prodded, leaning forward with interest.

"There's no way," Tara sighed out. She released her legs and let them fall back to the cold wooden floor. "I've only just met her and I already feel like I'm going to make a life with her someday."

Faith's brows furrowed.

"We were having lunch together when you came to the inn," Tara continued, a perplexed look coming over her face. "We hardly know each other and I feel like I've known her forever."

Silence enveloped them for a few moments, as Tara stared at the floor in thought. Faith watched her curiously.

"Buffy doesn't act rashly," Faith said finally. "And she thinks before she speaks."

Tara glanced up and met Faith's eyes. The Breton looked like she was choosing her words carefully. Faith seemed to be relaxed by outward appearance, but Tara could detect the tension in her shoulders from several feet away.

"This is her entire life," she continued after a moment. "I get that."

Tara understood Faith's meaning. The life that she lead, of risk and reward, was not something that she had chosen for herself; it was merely what she had always had to do to survive. She had known nothing else, no other way. So, when she had been offered a position with the infamous Thieves' Guild, it had seemed to her to be the natural path to follow. It had taken Tara a long time to understand why Faith would choose to continue to live in the kind of danger that she constantly seemed to find herself in when there were many other opportunities, both in Skyrim and beyond, that would offer safety and stability.

Tara had come to the conclusion that Faith was like a flame: beautiful and volatile, creative and destructive, transient and enduring. She required a spark to get her started, something to give her meaning, and with the right fuel, could turn that spark into a raging fire. Life with the Thieves' Guild provided all of those things and Tara had seen her do amazing things, true feats of bravery and cunning that only a bard could dream up. But if she was smothered, forced into the mundanity of safety and stability, Faith's flame would go out. Tara realized that this path was Faith's calling and nothing else would fulfill her.

Tara inferred then, by Faith's vague description, that Buffy was cut from a similar cloth. It brought Tara a measure of comfort and familiarity to know that about the Khajiit, though she was certain that Buffy had led a very different life from Faith's.

"Thank you for telling me," Tara said quietly, smiling knowingly at Faith. The tension in the Breton's shoulders seemed to drain away and she looked truly relaxed for the first time that day. She grinned sincerely at Tara, her head tilted to the side.

"You always did know me better than I knew myself," she joked, her dimples denting the sides of her smile charmingly.

Tara barked out a laugh.

"It never would have worked out," Tara shot back. "You're too wild for me."

Faith truly laughed then, her eyes crinkling with humor as she stood from the bed.

"You're right, of course," she said through a chuckle. "We should probably get out there before Buffy eats all of the food."

As if on cue, the door to the room opened and Buffy poked her head in.

"Are you two coming?"

Tara just chuckled.

* * *

Tara and Faith joined the others just long enough to be introduced to Mikael, the only other soldier stationed at the outpost, and to receive their steaming bowls of stew. It had been a quick affair, Buffy handing them their bowls and taking two for herself while Willow exchanged a few words with the soldiers. After she finished, she lead them into the hallway and up the stairs.

They filed into a large, open room on the second floor, the ceiling pitched all the way up to the roof. The walls of the room were lined with bookshelves, most of them empty, and a few framed maps of the provinces of Tamriel. In one corner sat a small, spartan desk covered in neatly-arranged parchment rolls, leather bound journals, and a brightly-burning oil lamp. An alchemy station took up the opposite corner, its shelves and tiny drawers filled with all manner of ingredients. The focal point of the room, however, was the over-sized round table directly in the center of the floor space, surrounded by four long wooden benches with red leather cushions upholstered to their seats.

It was to the table that Willow lead them, gesturing for them to take seats while she disappeared through a door near the writing desk. Tara, Faith, and Buffy each slid onto one of the benches, setting their bowls of stew in front of them on the table. After a moment, Willow returned with another leather bound journal complete with inkpot and quill. She seated herself on the remaining bench and set down her supplies as Buffy slid one of her two stew bowls in front of her.

"Thank you," she said politely, picking up her spoon. She dipped it into her stew and gingerly blew the steam from it before taking her first bite.

"What is this room?" Faith asked as she dug into her own stew.

"It's my study," Willow explained. "We've been using it for a little bit of everything, though. Briefings, meetings. But I can maintain some form of privacy here. I thought it might be a better place to talk than the common room."

Faith hummed in response.

"So, from what I can gather," Willow continued as everyone continued to eat, "Something happened that caused a group of Nords to send mercenaries after you. You stole something."

Buffy chuckled.

"That's the very abridged version, but yes."

Willow fixed her with a calm stare.

"What is the unabridged version?"

And, after taking a deep breath, Buffy began to speak. She told Willow about the break-ins in Markarth and the potentially profitable treasure they may have stumbled upon. Faith interjected occasionally to give her side of things as they spoke about the finds they had made on their second trip.

In the meantime, as she had already heard the story, Tara took the opportunity to watch Willow.

The redheaded mage listened raptly to Buffy's story, her journal and quill laying untouched on the table before her. She thought back to when she had first met Willow on her journey to Riften and how the mage had scribbled meticulous notes as Tara had answered her rapid-fire questions. It was strange to her now to see the woman merely listening this time; she speculated that Willow was more interested in hearing the story this time than having her questions answered.

Tara's mind drifted then as her eyes wandered around Willow's face and studied her expressions. The way her eyebrows drew closer and closer together was particularly intriguing to Tara. She watched as a tiny depression formed between her brows, deepening slightly as Buffy described the danger they had found at the inn in Markarth. Her eyes skittered across the smooth expanse of Willow's nose and cheeks, settling on the downward curve at the corner of her lips as she frowned slightly. She paused there for a long moment, cataloging every small twitch and press those lips made as the mage stopped herself from interrupting the story. A moment later, they opened slightly in surprise or interest, affording Tara a tiny glimpse at the teeth behind them. She found herself leaning forward intently as she saw Willow press her lips back together in thought before her tongue darted out for a mere fraction of a second to wet them.

"So, the Silver-Bloods are one of the most powerful families in Skyrim?" Willow asked as Buffy finished her story, startling Tara out of her thoughts. She felt herself flush as she realized just how long she had been staring at the redhead.

"They practically own all of Markarth and the Reach," Buffy replied. "It's probably safe to say that they have quite a bit of influence in other holds as well."

Willow hummed in thought.

"Let me see if I've got this right, then," she began after a moment, her tone and face unreadable. "The two of you stole some records from the most powerful family in western Skyrim and then later went _back into their city_ to steal some more things from them, barely avoiding getting yourselves caught and thrown into prison. Then, you sold their secrets and wealth to the Thieves' Guild."

Buffy glanced at Faith and Tara's brow furrowed.

"That about sums it up," Faith said with a shrug.

"But you couldn't get rid of a couple of journals written by some student mage because they apparently have no value to anyone, including the mage's college, so you held onto them in the hopes that they would lead to some mysterious treasure that you've seen no mention of, nor are you entirely sure even exists. You've got a... a _feeling._"

Tara frowned at Willow's tone which was becoming more harsh with each word the mage spoke. She had not expected this reaction from the woman that she had found to be thoughtful and understanding.

"And then," Willow continued, "After enlisting the help of your close friend to investigate said _mysterious treasure_, you find out that the Silver-Bloods, with their outpouring of wealth and influence, managed to track the elusive thieves of their keep to Riften and were in the city to either capture or eradicate them. _That's_ when you decided it would be a good idea to lay low for a little while."

Faith, her brows furrowed and mouth gaping somewhat like a fish, stared at Willow in confusion.

"Am I wrong?" Willow challenged, levelling a glare at Faith. Buffy frowned.

"You're not wrong," Buffy said, pulling Willow's attention away from the gaping Breton. "I had wanted to involve Tara from the moment that we realized there was something odd about the journals, but Faith insisted that we wait until the potential danger had passed. Obviously, we failed to take into account the fact that the Silver-Bloods weren't in a hurry."

"Obviously," Willow repeated darkly. She glanced at Tara. "I'm shocked that they were able to convince you to join in this... criminal activity."

Tara pressed her lips together tightly, the softly-spoken rebuke hitting her unexpectedly hard from the woman she felt so strongly for. Her mind reeled as she tried to rationalize this harsh, judgmental woman with the beautiful and curious woman she had been seen so far. Her head tilted forward until her gaze was locked onto the table, refusing to meet Willow's eyes as she tried to work through her confusion.

Buffy fixed her yellow eyes steadily on the mage, frowning deeply.

"As I believe I mentioned before," Buffy hissed, again drawing Willow's attention to herself, "We are far from the Imperial City. Things are very different here. If you plan to stay in Skyrim for any length of time, I would strongly urge you to consider those differences before you make judgments about people or their way of life."

Willow opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, she gaped at Buffy as if she had been slapped.

"I don't believe that we are going to get anywhere with our strategy tonight," Buffy continued with an air of finality that no one opposed. "I think we should revisit this tomorrow after we've had time to rest and process all of the information. I am going to bed."

With that, Buffy turned silently from the table and made her way from the room without looking back. Faith stared after her for a moment before standing from her own bench and gathering their now empty bowls.

"T," she muttered quietly at the still-silent Nord.

Tara glanced up at Willow and swallowed back the angry tears that wanted to burst from her eyes. The mage was sitting as still as a statue, her eyes wide and her already pale skin nearly translucent, staring back at Tara at a loss for words.

"G-g-goodnight," Tara sputtered out in a near-whisper as she stood up from her bench. She all but glued her eyes to her boots as she followed Faith and Buffy from the room.

The door closed firmly behind them with a resounding thud, leaving Willow alone with the heavy silence that had now taken over her study.


	10. Foot in Mouth

_A/N: Two chapters in two weeks? Am I feeling okay? It's another shorter one... But I think it's worth it.  
_

_On an unrelated note, this is the 10th chapter of this fic and we haven't got very deep into it yet. As the author, I reserve the right to drag this out as long as I want, thank you very much! That said, chapter 11 will bring us back to the plot a little bit and hopefully set us up for a fun ride. Feel free to let me know how you're enjoying my experiment so far. Or don't... That won't stop me! *maniacal laughter*_

* * *

It had been hours since Willow and the others had arrived at the farmhouse and hours still before that since she had truly felt relaxed.

The explanation she had received from Faith and Buffy about how they had gotten in this mess had been somewhat of a shock to Willow. Of all the people that she had ever met in her entire life, excluding priests of the Eight Divines (though some of them were questionable), she never would have guessed that Tara would be involved in any type of criminal activity. Beautiful, sweet, brilliant Tara, whose eyes had shown with kindness toward every person Willow had ever seen her look at; whose voice was soft and melodic like the songs of birds in the early morning hours; whose sure hands had grasped her so tightly and yet with so much care when they had been in danger. Surely, that perfect woman could never do anything evil in all of her days.

Willow had since conceded to herself that there was a lot she still did not know about the woman she had been quickly falling for since the moment they had met less than two days before.

Historically, the people of Cyrodiil, Willow's home province, had frowned fairly mightily upon the Thieves' Guild. It had been common knowledge that the beggars and impoverished citizens of the province were involved with, if not members of, the guild and the guards of each city kept a strict watch over them to ensure the guild was not gaining a foothold anywhere. In the Imperial City, the beggars and poor had not even been allowed inside the walls for fear that they would be spreading the influence of the guild. In recent years, what with the recovery from the war with the Aldmeri Dominion, the guild had become fragmented and bowed more to the laws of the land than it ever had before. Willow herself had never in her life had to fear for her safety or the security of her home because she knew that the Thieves' Guild was kept on a short leash.

It had been somewhat of a culture shock for her, then, to arrive in Skyrim where things were so much more... _Wild_.

From the moment she had set foot in Solitude, she had sensed a different atmosphere about the people and the city. It had been reminiscent of what she was used to: large stone buildings, a temple, a marketplace. But, as she had spent more time there, she had noticed that the comforts she recognized from home were merely similar-looking and not at all the same as what she had grown up with. The people were aware of everything around them and not a bit afraid of the dangers that faced them from every conceivable angle. From the many untamed creatures in the wilderness to the many scattered bandit camps and crime factions to the turning of brother against brother in bloody civil war, the Nords of Skyrim were completely prepared to stand up for what they believed in.

Perhaps that was the difference that had the most impact on Willow. In Cyrodiil, it was every man for himself and people changed their morals and values to match up with whoever was in power. There in Skyrim, people cared so deeply about things and did not change their minds even under the threat of death. They were a shrewd people who did not abide the attempted influence of outsiders on their affairs. That even included the Imperials that were trying to keep the shaky peace in the provinces.

With those thoughts in mind, Willow reevaluated the things she had heard that night.

Obviously, Tara had known Faith for a very long time to trust the Breton as much as she clearly did. Willow did not know if she knew anyone that she could honestly say she trusted enough to follow without question; it was a foreign concept to her in every way. Aside from the exceptionally deep feelings that she seemed to have developed for Tara, she could not even imagine ever trusting anyone that much. The relationship between Tara and Faith was something that she had not witnessed before between other people. Willow could admit to herself that it left her feeling somewhat jealous at the first glance, though it had been tempered with all the activity of running away from a pair of mercenaries.

It was not so strange to her now, she thought, that Tara had stuck to her convictions toward the person she had cared about. Tara had obviously offered herself to her friend at any time that she needed her, and vice versa. This situation was one of the times that Faith needed her and Tara had stepped up without question. It was unfortunate that it happened to be a dangerous situation, but appeared that Tara had taken it in stride.

Tara was a prime example of the good, strong Nords that Willow had seen and heard of in her travels. She cared deeply about those close to her and believed strongly in the things that were important to her.

It was then, as Willow sat wide awake in the common room of the farmhouse staring at the slowly dying flames in the fireplace for the fourth straight hour, that she realized that she may have judged Tara, and Faith and Buffy by extension, too harshly. Her instructors at the Arcane University had often told her that she had a tendency to "eat her own boots" from time to time and it appeared that this was one of those times.

After her three offended guests had left her alone in her study earlier that evening, she had sat alone in surprised silence for several minutes, running their conversation backward and forward in her mind. She could pinpoint the moment that she had ruined everything without even trying; it was the moment that she had opened her mouth to speak, thinking that she had had it all figured out. And she had forced them away with her words, likely breaking their trust in the process. From there, it was a short leap to assume that she had also lost Tara's respect with her harsh words.

She had been angry at herself when she had finally dragged herself away from the round table. She had huffed her way into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her as if it would make her feel better. It did not. And then she had flopped atop her bed face-down, hoping that she could just fall asleep and wake up in the morning to everything back to the way it was before she had been confused by beauty and new cultures and old prejudices.

It had not helped, as she knew logically it wouldn't, and she had pulled herself off of her bed and left the top floor of the farmhouse entirely. She had made her way down the stairs, passing the large room that housed the other soldiers and her guests as she made her way to the main hall. It had taken some self control to ensure that she did not burst into the room and declare herself the largest idiot of the Fourth Era, but she had managed. Willow finally ended up sitting on the threadbare rug in front of the hearth, knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped securely around them.

Her soldiers had left her alone, merely throwing furtive glances her way as they made their nightly rounds. After a while, they each headed off to their quarters and the farmhouse descended into silence. And Willow sat, moving only enough to keep her legs from going numb, thinking about the awful things she had said to the woman that she was starting to hope would be in her life for a very long time.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts and the flickering of the flames in the hearth that she did not hear the creak of a heavy wooden door opening and closing. She did, however, hear soft footsteps as they made their way into the main hall and toward the hearth. Willow glanced to the side as the footsteps stopped next to her. Her eyes flickered over a pair of brown boots with the ends of riding pants stuffed haphazardly into them and up a set of long legs and a shapely torso to meet the unreadable blue eyes of the very woman she had been thinking so hard about.

"It's after midnight... Shouldn't you be asleep by now?" Tara asked softly after a few moments of silence, her words nearly whispered into the quiet of the room. Willow blinked and looked away from the blonde's eyes back to the hearth.

"The same could be asked of you," she mumbled in reply.

The air next to her shifted as Tara crouched to the floor of the common room, taking a cross-legged seat on the rug next to Willow and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Willow cut her eyes to the side, surreptitiously watching Tara's every movement as she settled next to her.

"I came out to get some water," Tara explained. "And then I saw you."

Willow did not respond, choosing instead to let the silence stretch between them. She wanted to apologize and explain herself, but she could not find the words. Tara let her be, watching with her as the flames slowly died out and the glowing and pulsing embers took over. After a few moments of warring with herself, Willow sighed heavily.

"Tara-"

"When I was a very young girl," Tara began, cutting Willow's words off before she could get them out, "So young that I can barely remember, I was orphaned. I don't know what happened to my parents and no one I've ever asked could tell me anything about them. They were just two ordinary people who suddenly weren't around anymore. I was sent to the orphanage in Riften to grow up with some kind of safety and security.

"One thing I did remember, though, and still do to this day, was one time when my father took my mother and I into one of the cities. We were visiting with some of the merchants in the market stalls when a drunkard from the inn approached one of the Argonian merchants and started harassing him. It's mostly a blur to me now, but I will always remember how my father stepped between them in defense of the Argonian. The drunkard was yelling all kinds of obscenities and slurs at the Argonian, but my father told him off. He said, 'This creature is as much a person as you or me, though probably a better one than you will ever be, and you _will_ treat him with the respect he deserves.'"

Willow swallowed hard and turned her head to look at Tara. The blonde was staring at the embers, but her eyes were far away in a different time and a different place.

"Years later," she continued, her voice steady, "I was adopted by a farmer and his wife as a form of cheap labor for the farm they ran on their manor near Windhelm. They were as Stormcloak as they come: prejudiced against anyone that didn't look like them or didn't believe in what they believed in, anyone who practiced magic too often, anyone that tried to tell them they couldn't worship the chamber pot if they wanted to. They found out early on that I didn't share their values and when I made it clear that I didn't ever plan on doing so, they swept it under the rug. We never acknowledged our differences of opinion and any time it came up in conversation, I was expected to sit by quietly and let them air their prejudices without saying a word.

"Ald sometimes took me with him when he travelled to different cities in the province to sell some of the excess crops and any miscellaneous goods we had come across or made. One of the earliest trips he took me on was to Solitude, the seat of the High King of Skyrim and home of all of the business opportunities that come with that sort of thing. He had set up a stall in the market and sent me off with a list of things to fetch from the shops around town. I was running between shops when this whirlwind of dark hair and sharp elbows slammed into me."

Tara smiled fondly at the memory, her eyes finally coming back into focus. She turned them to Willow and the mage found that she could not look away from their soulful stare.

"We ended up rolling behind a thicket outside one of the shops and she held me down by the shoulders with a hand over my mouth while the Solitude guards wandered the square looking for the little thief that had stolen a necklace from some foreign jeweler. When they couldn't find her, they headed off toward the barracks to report in. Faith introduced herself and I found out that she didn't have any parents either. And she didn't care what a person looked like as long as they weren't evil incarnate, though she was very discerning about who she gave her trust to. It baffles me to this day that she and I became such close friends; we're so different... But, I love her as if we had known each other from the womb and I would not change a single thing about her."

Tara paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh, her eyes burning into Willow.

"The way that you reacted when we told you what had happened offended me deeply," Tara continued, her voice taking on a hard edge as she spoke. "You were the one who was so adamant that you had to know the details, and when we told you, you acted like Faith and Buffy were some kind of convicts that had dragged poor, innocent Tara into their business without any regard to her safety. I can assure you that that is far from the case."

"T-tara, I-"

"L-let me finish!" Tara cut in sharply her brows furrowed deeply and mouth set in a hard line. "I've been there for Faith when she was on the verge of losing her very life for the lifestyle that she was forced to lead because there was no nice, safe orphanage to send her to where she came from – she's had to fend for herself for longer than probably even I know. And she was there for me when I was nearly forced from the manor that had taken me in just because I didn't agree with the systemic torture and mistreatment of elves and lizards and cats. I trust Faith with my life just as she does me. And anyone else that she trusts that much, I know I can, too. And if Faith and someone she trusts ask me for help, I will be there for them, regardless of the circumstances."

Tara broke off then, tearing her eyes away and fastening them back on the embers in the hearth. She breathed deeply for a few moments, collecting her thoughts, before looking back to Willow.

"Skyrim is a hard place. The weather is harsh except for in a few places and the political climate in those places might actually be worse depending on who you ask. Most of us have to work very hard for the little that we have and we take opportunities when we find them, no matter what they are. Life is short here. When we find someone we can trust, someone we l-love, we d-don't ever let them go."

Willow was speechless.

She had been on the right track with her assessments of Tara earlier, she thought to herself. The woman stood by her convictions and was fiercely loyal to those she held dear. And she _had_ known Faith for a long time, longer than Willow would have guessed. All of the experiences and studies that she had had, her happy family and home, none of them would ever compare to what she imagined that Tara had gone through in her life; she did not think she could have endured half of the things that the Nord had just based on the few things she had shared with her so far.

It all served to remind her again of just how little knowledge she actually had of the province, its people, or Tara herself.

_Eat her own boots,_ indeed.

Willow was even more ashamed of herself after hearing Tara's story than she had been before. Willow had approached the situation in the Imperial way that she was used to that she now realized had no place in this province. She had well and truly attacked Faith and Buffy for their lifestyle as though they had dragged Tara into their problems against her will and judged Tara for who she associated with. It was the exact kind of thing that the Imperial scholars and merchants back home would have done with no regard to the striking cultural differences that existed between them.

One of the things that Willow had always prided herself on was the voracious way she studied everything she had ever been interested in and tried to learn everything she could about it before she experienced it. She had done exactly that before being assigned on this trip to Skyrim. She knew now, though, that no amount of study would ever have prepared her for what she had found.

"Tara..." Willow said, the name feeling like a prayer or a spell on her lips, "I'm so sorry."

Tara's eyes softened and she reached a hand out to lay gently on one of Willow's atop her knees.

"What I said was thoughtless," the mage continued, a deep line forming between her brows. She chuckled humorlessly. "This is like an entirely different world. I'm still trying to understand... Not that I'm trying to excuse myself... And I'm sorry that I judged you and your friends without taking the time to think it through."

"I know," Tara said, a tiny smile turning up the corners of her lips as she squeezed Willow's fingers beneath her own. "I want to help you understand."

"Thank you," Willow said earnestly.

They fell back into silence, staring back at the embers in the hearth, Tara's hand still covering Willow's. As the last of the firelight died down, they sat in the near-darkness of the main hall, the moonlight shining through the nearby window becoming the only light.

"I wasn't entirely truthful earlier," Tara muttered after a few minutes, startling Willow slightly. Willow furrowed her brow at Tara's sheepish smile. "I didn't come out here for water... I heard you come down the stairs." Tara locked her eyes on Willow's once more. "I don't like to leave things unfinished if it's possible to resolve them. I-I was working up the nerve to come back to your study and talk to you."

Willow finally lowered her knees, turning her hand to keep hold of Tara's as she changed position.

"Are Buffy and Faith angry?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know Buffy very well," Tara replied, squeezing Willow's fingers. "I only met her yesterday. But from what I've seen of her so far, I think she is probably okay. She seems like she has a good understanding of other people and what they're feeling or thinking. And Faith, well... Faith doesn't offend easily, but she'll get over it if she was."

Tara paused haltingly, seeming to war with herself for a few seconds over the words on the tip of her tongue. And then she took a deep breath and parted her lips.

"Sh-she knows how important you are. T-to me."

Willow's head snapped toward Tara, her eyes wide and searching as they settled on the blushing cheeks she could just make out in the dim light. Her breath caught as Tara's words and the earnestness of her features sank in.

"Wha-what?" Willow whispered in surprise, watching Tara's eyes twinkle. "Really?"

Tara nodded.

Willow felt her heart skip, taking a deep breath in as her chest seemed to tighten. Was Tara saying what she thought she was saying?

"I-I wasn't joking earlier," Tara muttered into the quiet of the night. "We Nords take these things very seriously. A-and I feel so strongly for you so quickly that it's almost unbelievable... But I don't w-want to let it go."

Willow leaned closer to Tara under the pretense of trying to get a better look at the Nord's face, being that it was in the shadow of the moonlight streaming in the window behind her. She was kidding herself, though, and she knew it; she could feel the air between them thickening with tension and the only clear thought she could decipher was that she needed to be closer to Tara.

Never did she dream that she would meet someone so extraordinary as Tara was. And in none of her wildest, most outlandish imaginings would she have considered that such an extraordinary person would return her affections – especially after her egregious lapse in judgment earlier that evening.

Yet the evidence was there before her in the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes of a Nord woman she had met only days ago (though it felt like weeks). It was as clear as daylight and as loud as thunder even in the darkness and stillness of the farmhouse.

"We're going to research the journals and try to make heads or tails of them," Tara continued in a near whisper before Willow could string enough words together to respond to her declaration. "And then, if we learn anything interesting, we're going to go searching for it. No matter where it takes us, if anywhere at all, I-I'll still feel the same way."

"You'll have all of my resources, anything you need," Willow promised, finally finding her voice. "A-and I'll be at your side."

Tara smiled brilliantly then, her lips curving high and her eyes crinkling in happiness. As Willow's took it all in, she did not notice Tara leaning into the last few inches between them. She did notice, however, when a pair of soft, warm lips molded softly to hers, their light pressure tilting her head up slightly. Willow let out a breath in surprise, her hand moving automatically to Tara's cheek and sliding back to cup her jaw as the blonde leaned into her touch.

Willow had the presence of mind to recognize the differences between this kiss and the one they had shared at the inn before making their hasty escape from the mercenaries. That one had been quick, only seconds long, and in a moment of desperation when Willow worried that she may never see the beautiful Nord again. This one was unhurried and gentle, as if they had all the time in the world, their lips pressing together tightly, though not insistently, and parting only a hairsbreadth before returning to each other.

Tara kissed her meaningfully, her own hands moving to slide into Willow's unbound hair and rest on the side of her neck. The gentle caress of Tara's hand on her skin made Willow sigh softly, which seemed to encourage her movements. Tara tilted her head slightly to one side and Willow's head spun as she felt the Nord's tongue flick across her lips timidly, though somehow still with that slight firmness that was starting to drive her mad. A small, quiet noise rose from Willow's throat at that, somewhere between a gasp of surprise and a groan of pleasure. Tara pressed more firmly then, sliding her tongue delicately over the mage's lips until they parted and then pushing it forward to brush against Willow's own.

Willow found herself taking quick, deep breaths as her body flushed with heat, her head feeling like it may very well float away from the rest of her body, as Tara pressed their lips and tongues together again and again. Tara herself was taking sharp breaths through her nose, the fingers that she had weaved into Willow's hair trembling slightly and the hand on the side of her neck pressing gently into her skin.

For seconds, minutes, or hours, Willow had no recollection, they stayed that way, their bodies pressing closer and closer together on the rug in the main hall of Willow's farmhouse, sharing their emotions and experiences with one another through the press of their lips. At some point, Willow had turned slightly and Tara had pressed her back into the cool stone of the hearth. It was there that their kisses finally slowed to a natural and gentle end, Tara's forehead resting softly against Willow's as they caught their breath.

Willow swallowed loudly as she stared up into Tara's eyes, running her thumb down over the blonde's cheek to caress her lips softly.

"I feel the same," she whispered, knowing Tara had heard her by the way her breath hitched. She smirked slightly. "Just in case you were worried."

Tara huffed out a laugh, her eyes shining with mirth and adoration.

"Thank the gods for that."

Willow pulled Tara's lips back to hers, smiling into them when they connected. They would not break away for some time.


End file.
